
Ten Girls 




f rom % 

DiGKENS 




Class _JPff/:^5SI_ 

Book .2)^ 5 

Copyright N^!^f A 



COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



TEN GIRLS from 
CHARLES DICKENS 




Little Nell and Her Grandfather. 



TEN GIRLS from 
DICKENS 

By 

Kate Dickinson Sweetser 

(Auihor of" Ten Boys from Dickens ") 

Illustrated by 
GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 




NEW YORK 

y. F, Taylor &f Company 



M C M I V 



Copyright 1902 by 
J. F. TAYLOR & CO. 



Copyright 1904 by 
J. F. TAY LOR & CO. 



LIBRARY of CONliRESS 
Tw* Copie» Received 

FEB 20 1904 

^^_ Copyright Enti 



Class- 



.0. No. 



PYB' 



Y^*f 



,1^ 



.^V 



PREFACE 



A S a companion volume to Ten Boys from Dickens, this 
^ ^ book of girl-life, portrayed by the great author, is 
offered. 

The sketches have the same underlying motive as those 
of boy-life, and have been compiled in the same manner, 
with the same purpose in view. 

Among them will be found several of the most popular 
of the creations of Dickens, notably. The Marchioness, 
Little Nell, Jenny Wren, and Florence Dombey, and it is 
hoped that in this presentation as simple stories of girlhood, 
their classic form and beauty may arouse in the young peo- 
ple of our day a new interest in the novels from which they 
are taken. 

This volume and its companion will have accomplished 
their purpose when they have won fresh laurels and a wider 
audience for the famous writer to whom they are indebted 
for their existence. 

K. D. S. 

Aprils ip02. 



CONTENTS 



The Marchioness 3 

MORLEENA KeNWIGS . . . ... . -31 

Little Nell 41 

The Infant Phenomenon 91 

Jenny Wren 107 

Sissy Jupe . . 139 

Florence Dombey 165 

Charley ^ 207 

Tilly Slowboy 219 

Agnes Wickfield 229 



THE MARCHIONESS 




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O 



X 

H 



TEN GIRLS from 
CHARLES DICKENS 

THE MARCHIONESS 



THE Marchioness was a small servant employed by 
Sampson Brass and his sister Sally, as general 
house-worker and drudge, in which capacity she 
was discovered by Mr. Richard Swiveller, upon 
the very first day of his entering the Brass 
establishment as clerk. 

The Brasses' house was a small one in Bevis Marks, Lon- 
don, having upon its door a plate, " Brass, Solicitor," and a 
bill tied to the knocker, " First floor to let to a single gentle- 
man," and served not only as habitation, but likewise as 
office for Sampson Brass, — of none too good legal repute, — 
and his sister; a gaunt, bony copy of her red-haired brother, 
who was his housekeeper, as well as his business partner. 

When the Brasses decided to keep a clerk, Richard 
Swiveller was chosen to fill the place ; and be it known to 
whom it may concern, that the said Richard was the mer- 
riest, laziest, weakest, most kind-hearted fellow who ever 
sowed a large crop of wild oats, and by a sudden stroke of 
good-luck found himself raised to a salaried position. 
• Clad in a blue jacket with a double row of gilt buttons, 
bought for acquatic expeditions, but now dedicated to office 
purposes, Richard entered upon his new duties, and during 

3 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

that first afternoon, while Mr. Brass and his sister were 
temporarily absent from the office, he began a minute ex- 
amination of its contents. 

Then, after assuaging his thirst with a pint of mild porter, 
and receiving and dismissing three or four small boys who 
dropped in on legal errands from other attorneys, with about 
as correct an understanding of their business as would have 
been shown by a clown in a pantomime under similar cir- 
cumstances, he tried his hand at a pen-and-ink caricature of 
Miss Brass, in which work he was busily engaged, when 
there came a rapping at the office-door. 

"Come in!" said Dick. "Don't stand on ceremony. 
The business will get rather complicated if I have many 
more customers. Come in ! " 

" Oh, please," said a little voice very low down in the 
doorway, "will you come and show the lodgings?" 

Dick leaned over the table, and descried a small slipshod 
girl in a dirty coarse apron and bib, which left nothing of 
her visible but her face and feet. She might as well have 
been dressed in a violin case. 

" Why, who are you ?" said Dick. 

To which the only reply was, " Oh, please, will you come 
and show the lodgings?" 

There never was such an old-fashioned child in her looks 
and manner. She must have been at work from her cradle. 
She seemed as much afraid of Dick, as Dick was amazed at 
her. 

" I haven't got anything to do with the lodgings," said 
Dick. "Tell 'em to call aoain." 

o 

" Oh, but please will you come and show the lodgings ? " 
returned the girl ; " it's eighteen shillings a week, and us 
finding plate and linen. Boots and clothes is extra, and 
fires in winter-time is eightpence a day." 

4 



THE MARCHIONESS 

" Why don't you show em yourself ? You seem to know 
all about 'em," said Dick. 

" Miss Sally said I wasn't to, because people wouldn't 
believe the attendance was good if they saw how small I 
was, first." 

" Well, but they'll see how small you are afterwards, 
won't they ? " said Dick. 

" Ah ! but then they'll have taken 'em for a fortnight 
certain," replied the child, with a shrewd look; "and people 
don't like moving when they're once settled," 

" This is a queer sort of thing," muttered Dick, rising. 
** What do you mean to say you are — the cook ? " 

" Yes ; I do plain cooking," replied the child. " I'm 
housemaid too. I do all the work of the house." 

Just then certain sounds on the passage and staircase 
seemed to denote the applicant's impatience. Richard 
Swiveller, therefore, hurried out to meet and treat with the 
single gentleman. 

He was a little surprised to perceive that the sounds were 
occasioned by the progress upstairs of a trunk, which the 
single gentleman and his coachman were endeavoring to 
convey up the steep ascent. Mr. Swiveller followed slowly 
behind, entering a new protest on every stair against the 
house of Mr. Sampson Brass being thus taken by storm. 

To these remonstrances the single gentleman answered 
not a word, but when the trunk was at last got into the bed- 
room, sat down upon it, and wiped his bald head with his 
handkerchief. He then announced abruptly that he would 
take the room for two years, whereupon, handing a ten- 
pound note to the astonished Mr. Swiveller, he began to 
make ready to retire, as if it were night instead of day, and 
Mr. Swiveller walked downstairs into the office again, filled 
with wonderment concerning both the strange new lodger 

5 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

and the small servant who had appeared to answer the 
bell. 

After that day, one cirdumstance troubled Mr. Swiveller's 
mind very much, and that was, that the small servant always 
remained somewhere in the bowels of the earth under Bevis 
Marks, and never came to the surface unless a bell rang, 
when she would answer it, and immediately disappear again. 
She never went out, or came into the office, or had a clean 
face, or took off the coarse apron, or looked out of any of 
the windows, or stood at the street door for a breath of 
air, or had any rest or enjoyment whatever. Nobody ever 
came to see her, nobody spoke of her, nobody cared about 
her. 

" Now," said Dick, one day, walking up and down with 
his hands in his pockets ; " I'd give something — if I had it — 
to know how they use that child, and where they keep her. 
I should like to know how they use her ! " 

At that moment he caught a glimpse of Miss Brass flitting 
down the kitchen stairs. "And, by Jove!" thought Dick, 
" She's going to feed the small servant. Now or never ! " 

First peeping over the handrail, he groped his way down, 
and arrived at the kitchen door immediately after Miss 
Brass had entered the same, bearing in her hand a cold leg 
of mutton. 

It was a very dark, miserable place, very low and very 
damp ; the walls disfigured by a thousand rents and blotches. 
The water was trickling out of a leaky butt, and a most 
wretched cat was lapping up the drops with the sickly eager- 
ness of starvation. The grate was screwed up so tight as to 
hold no more than a thin sandwich of fire. Everything was 
locked up ; the coal-cellar, the candle-box, the salt-box, the 
meat-safe, were all padlocked. There was nothing that a 
beetle could have lunched on. 

6 



THE MARCHIONESS 

The small servant stood with humility in presence of Miss 
Sally, and hung her head. 

"Are you there?" said Miss Sklly. 

" Yes ma'am," was the answer, in a weak voice. 

" Go further away fi'om the leg of mutton, or you'll be 
picking it, I know," said Miss Sally. 

The girl withdrew into a corner, while Miss Brass opened 
the safe, and brought from it a dreary waste of cold potatoes, 
looking as eatable as Stonehenge. This she placed before 
the small servant, and then, taking up a great carving-knife, 
made a mighty show of sharpening it. 

" Do you see this ? " she said, slicing off about two square 
inches of cold mutton, and holding it out on the point of a 
fork. 

The small servant looked hard enough at it with her 
hungry eyes to see every shred of it and answered, " Yes." 

" Then don't you ever go and say," retorted Miss Sally, 
"that you hadn't meat here. There, eat it up." 

This was soon done. 

" Now, do you want any more ? " said Miss Sally. 

The hungry creature answered with a faint " No." They 
were evidently going through an established form. 

*' You've been helped once to meat," said Miss Brass, 
summing up the facts ; " you have had as much as you can 
eat : you're asked if you want any more, and you answer 
' No.' Then don't you ever go and say you were allow- 
anced, — mind that ! " 

With those words, Miss Sally put the meat away, locked 
the meat-safe, and then overlooked the small servant while 
she finished the potatoes. After that, without the smallest 
cause, she rapped the child with the blade of the knife, now 
on her hand, now on her head, and now on her back. Then, 
after walking slowly backward towards the door, she darted 

7 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

sudtlenly forward, and falliiiL; on the small servant aj;i^ain, 
irave her some hard blows with her clenched fists. The 
victim cried, but in a subdued manner, as if she feared to 
raise her voice; and Miss Sally ascended the stairs just as 
Richard had safely reached the office, fairly beside himself 
with ano;er over the poor chikl's misery and ill-treatment. 

Durino^ the following weeks, when he had become accus- 
liMiuul to the routine of work which he was expected to 
accomplish, and being often left alone in the office, Richard 
Swiveller began to find time hang heavy on his hands. For 
the better preservation of his cheerfulness, therefore, he 
accustomed himself to play at cribbage with a dummy. 
While he was silently conducting one of these games Mr. 
Swiv^eller began to think that he heard a kind of hard breath- 
ing sound, in the direction of the door, which it occurred to 
him, after some rellection, must proceed from the small 
servant, who always had a cold from damp living. Look- 
ing intently that way, he plainly distinguished an eye gleam- 
ing and glistening at the keyhole ; and having now no 
doubt that his suspicions were correct he stole softly to the 
door, and pounced upon her before she was aware of his 
approach. 

" Oh 1 I didn't mean any harm, indeed, upon my word I 
didn't," cried the small servant; "it's so very dull down- 
stairs. Please don't you tell upon me, please don't." 

*' Tell upon you ! " said Dick. " Do you mean to say you 
were looking through the keyhole for company?" 

"Yes, upon my word I was," replied the small servant. 

" How long have you been cooling your eye there ?" said 
Dick. 

•* Oh, ever since you first began to play them cards, and 
long before." 

" Well — come in," said Mr. Swiveller, after a little con- 

8 



THE MARCHIONESS 

sidcration. "Here — sit clown, and I'll teach you how to 
play." 

"Oh ! I durstn't do it," rejoined the small servant ; " Miss 
Sally 'ud kill me if she knowed I come up here." 

" Have you ^ot a fire downstairs?" said Dick. 

" A very little one," replied the small servant. 

" Miss Sally couldn't kill me if she knowed I went down 
there, so I'll come," said Richard, puttin^^ the cards into his 
pocket. " Why, how thin you are ! What do you mean by 
it?" 

"It an't my fault." 

" Could you eat any bread and meat ?" said Dick, taking 
down his hat. "Yes? Ah ! I thought so. Did you ever 
taste beer ? " 

" I had a sip of it once," said the small servant. 

"Here's a state of things!" cried Mr. Swiveller, raising 
his eyes to the ceiling. "She never tasted it — it can't be 
tasted in a sip ! Why, how old are you ?" 

" I don't know." 

Mr. Swiveller opened his eyes very wide, and appeared 
thoughtful for a moment ; then, bidding the child mind the 
door until he came back, vanished straightway. 

Presently he returned, followed by a boy from the public- 
house, who bore a plate of bread and beef, and a great pot 
filled with choice purl. Relieving the boy of his burden, 
and charging his little companion to fasten the door 
to prevent surprise, Mr. Swiveller followed her into the 
kitchen. 

" There ! " said Richard, putting the plate before her. 
" First of all, clear that off, and then you'll see what's next." 

The small servant needed no second bidding, and the 
plate was soon empty. 

"Next," said Dick, handing the purl, "take a pull at 

9 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

that, but moderate your transports, for you're not used to it. 
Well, is it good ? " 

" Oh, isnt it ! " said the small servant. 

Mr. Swiveller appeared immensely gratified over her 
enjoyment, and when she had satisfied her hunger, applied 
himself to teaching her the game, which she soon learned 
tolerably well, being both sharp-witted and cunning. 

" Now," said Mr. Swiveller, "to make it seem more real 
and pleasant,! shall call you the Marchioness, do you hear?" 

The small servant nodded. 

"Then, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "fire away !" 

The Marchioness, holding her cards very tight in both 
hands, considered which to play, and Mr. Swiveller, assum- 
ing the gay and fashionable air which such society required, 
waited for her lead. 

They had played several rubbers, when the striking of 
ten o'clock rendered Mr. Swiveller mindful of the flight of 
time, and of the expediency of withdrawing before Mr. 
Sampson and Miss Sally Brass returned. 

" With which object in view. Marchioness," said Mr. 
Swiveller gravely. " I shall ask your ladyship's permission 
to put the board in my pocket, and to retire. The Baron 
Sampsono Brasso and his fair sister are, you tell me, at the 
Play?" added Mr. Swiveller, leaning his left arm heavily 
upon the table, and raising his voice and his right leg after 
the manner of a theatrical bandit. 

The Marchioness nodded. 

" Ha ! " said Mr. Swiveller, with a portentous frown. 
" 'Tis well. Marchioness ! — but no matter. Some wine 
there, ho ! Marchioness, your health." 

The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with 
theatrical conventionalities as Mr. Swiveller, was rather 
alarmed by his manner, and showed it so plainly that he felt 

lO 



THE MARCHIONESS 

it necessary to discharge his brigand bearing for one more 
suitable to private life. 

"I suppose," said Dick, "that they consult together a 
good deal, and talk about a great many people — about me, 
for instance, sometimes, eh. Marchioness ? " 

The Marchioness nodded amazingly. 

"Complimentary?" asked Mr. Swiveller. 

The Marchioness shook her head violently, 

"H'm!" Dick muttered. "Would it be any breach of 
confidence, Marchioness, to relate what they say of the hum- 
ble individual who has now the honor to ?" 

" Miss Sally says you are a funny chap," replied his friend. 

" Well, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, " that's not un- 
complimentary. Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad or a 
degrading quality. Old King Cole was himself a merry old 
soul, if we may put any faith in the pages of history." 

" But she says," pursued his companion, " that you aren't 
to be trusted." 

"Why, really. Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller thought- 
fully, " it's a popular prejudice, and yet I'm sure I don't 
know why, for I've been trusted in my time to a considera- 
ble amount, and I can safely say that I never forsook my 
trust, until it deserted me — never. Mr. Brass is of the same 
opinion, I suppose ? " 

His friend nodded again, adding imploringly, " But don't 
you ever tell upon me, or I shall be beat to death." 

" Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, rising, "the word of 
a gentleman is as good as his bond — sometimes better, as in 
the present case, where his bond might prove but a doubt- 
ful sort of security. I'm your friend, and I hope we shall 
play many more rubbers together. But, Marchioness," added 
Richard, " it occurs to me that you must be in the constant 
habit of airing your eye at keyholes to know this." 

II 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" I only wanted," replied the trembling Marchioness, " to 
know where the key of the meat-safe was hid — that was all ; 
and I wouldn't have taken much if I had found it — only 
enough to squench my hunger." 

" You didn't find it, then ? " said Dick, " but, of course, 
you didn't, or of course you'd be plumper. Good-night, 
Marchioness, fare thee well, and if forever, then forever 
fare thee well. And put up the chain, Marchioness, in case 
of accidents ! " 

Upon repairing to Bevis Marks on the following morning, 
he found Miss Brass much agitated over the disappearance 
from the office of several small articles, as well as three half 
crowns, and Richard felt much troubled over the matter, say- 
ing to himself, "Then, by Jove, I'm afraid the Marchioness 
is done for ! " 

The more he discussed the subject in his thoughts, the 
more probable it appeared to Dick that the miserable little 
servant was the culprit. When he considered on what a 
spare allowance of food she lived, how neglected and un- 
taught she was, and how her natural cunning had been 
sharpened by necessity and privation, he scarcely doubted it. 
And yet he pitied her so much, and felt so unwilling to have 
a matter of such gravity disturbing the oddity of their ac- 
quaintance, that he thought, rather than receive fifty pounds 
down, he would have the Marchioness proved innocent. 

While the subject of the thefts was under discussion. Kit 
Nubbles, a lad in the employ of a Mr. Garland, passed 
through the office, on his way upstairs to the room of the 
Brasses' lodger, the single gentleman, who was an intimate 
friend of Kit's employer. The single gentleman having 
been confined to his room for some time by a slight illness, 
it had become Kit's daily custom to convey to him messages 
and notes from Mr. Garland, and not infrequently Sampson 

12 



THE MARCHIONESS 

Brass would detain the lad in the office for a few words 
of pleasant conversation. 

Having discharged his errand, Kit came downstairs again, 
finding no one in the office except Mr. Brass, who, after 
greeting him affably, requested him to mind the office for 
one minute while he ran upstairs. Mr. Brass returned al- 
most immediately, Mr. Swiveller came in too, at the same 
instant, likewise Miss Sally, and Kit, released, at once set 
off on a run towards home, eager to make up for lost time. 
As he was running, he was suddenly arrested and held in 
restraint, by no less a person than Sampson Brass himself, 
accompanied by Mr. Swiveller. 

A five-pound note was missing from the office. Kit had 
been alone there for some minutes. Who could have taken 
it but Kit ? 

Pleased to have suspicion diverted from the Marchioness, 
but loath to help in so unpleasant an affair, Mr. Swiveller re- 
luctantly assisted in bearing the captive back to the office. 
Kit protesting his innocence at every step. They searched 
him, and there under the lining of his hat was the missing 
bank-note ! 

Still protesting his innocence, and completely stunned by 
the calamity which had come upon him, the lad was borne 
off to prison, where, after eleven weary days had dragged 
away, he was brought to trial. Richard Swiveller was called 
as a witness against Kit, and told his tale with reluctance, and 
an evident desire to make the best of it, for the lad's sake. 
His kind heart was also touched with pity for Kit's poor 
widowed mother, who sobbed out again and again, that she 
had never had cause to doubt her son's honesty, and she 
never would. 

When the trial was ended, and Kit found guilty, Richard 
bore the lad's fainting mother swiftly off in a coach he had 

13 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

ready for the purpose, and on the way comforted her In his 
own pecuHar fashion, perpetrating the most astounding ab- 
surdities of quotation from song and poem that ever were 
heard. Reaching her home, he stayed till she was recov- 
ered ; then returned to Bevis Marks, where Mr. Brass met 
him with the news that his services would be no longer re- 
quired in the establishment. 

Feeling sure that this verdict was in consequence of his 
defence of Kit, Mr. Swiveller took his dismissal in profound 
silence, and turned his back upon Bevis Marks, big with 
designs for the comforting of Kit's mother, and the aid of 
Kit himself. His only regret in regard to the matter was 
in having to leave the Marchioness alone and unprotected in 
the hands of the Brasses, and little did he dream that to the 
small servant herself, to the Marchioness, rather than to him, 
Kit and his mother were to owe their heaviest debt of ofrati- 
tude — but it was so to be. 

That very night Mr. Richard was seized with an alarming 
illness, and in twenty-four hours was stricken with a raging 
fever, and lay tossing upon his hot, uneasy bed, unconscious 
of anything but weariness and worry and pain, until at length 
he sank into a deep sleep. He awoke, and with a sensation 
of blissful rest better than sleep itself, began to dimly re- 
member, and to think what a long night it had been, and to 
wonder whether he had not been delirious once or twice. 
Still, he felt indifferent and happy, and having no curiosity 
to pursue the subject, remained in a waking slumber until 
his attention was attracted by a cough. This made him 
doubt whether he had locked his door last night, and feel 
a little surprised at having a companion in the room. But 
he lacked energy to follow up this train of thought, and in a 
luxury of repose, lay staring at some green stripes on the 
bed furniture, and associating them strangely, with patches 

14 



THE MARCHIONESS 

of fresh turf, while the yellow ground between made gravel 
walks, and so helped out a long perspective of trim gardens. 

He was rambling in imagination on these terraces, when 
he heard the cough once more. Raising himself a little in 
the bed, he looked about him. 

The same room, certainly, but with what unbounded as- 
tonishment did he see bottles, and basins, and articles of 
linen airing by the fire — all very clean and neat, but quite 
different from anything he had left there when he went to 
bed ! The atmosphere too filled with a cool smell of herbs 
and vinegar ; the floor newly sprinkled ; the — the what ? — 
the Marchioness ! 

Yes ; playing cribbage with herself at the table. There 
she sat, intent upon her game, coughing now and then in a 
subdued manner, as if she feared to disturb him, going 
through all the mysteries of cribbage as if she had been in 
full practice from her cradle ! 

Mr. Swiveller contemplated these things for a short time, 
then laid his head on the pillow again. 

" I'm dreaming," thought Richard, " that's clear. When 
I went to bed my hands were not made of egg-shells, and 
now I can almost see through 'em. If this is not a dream, 
I have woke up, by mistake, in an Arabian Night instead of 
a London one. But I have no doubt I'm asleep. Not the 
least." 

Here the small servant had another cough. 

"Very remarkable!" thought Mr. Swiveller. " I never 
dreamed such a real cough as that before. There's another 
— and another — I say ! — I'm dreaming rather fast ! 

" It's an Arabian Night ; that's what it is," said Richard. 
** I'm in Damascus or Grand Cairo. The Marchioness is a 
Genie and having had a wager with another Genie about 
who is the handsomest young man alive, and the worthiest 

IS 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

to be the husband of the Princess of China, has brought me 
away, room and all, to compare us together." 

Not feeling quite satisfied with this explanation, Mr. 
Swiveller determined to take the first opportunity of address- 
ing his companion. An occasion soon presented itself. 
The Marchioness dealt, turned up a knave, and omitted to 
take the usual advantage, upon which Mr. Swiveller called 
out as loud as he could — ** Two for his heels ! " 

The Marchioness jumped up quickly, and clapped her 
hands. 

"Arabian Night certainly," thought Mr. Swiveller; 
"they always clap their hands, instead of ringing the bell. 
Now for the two thousand black slaves with jars and jewels 
on their heads ! " 

It appeared however, that she had only clapped her hands 
for joy, as directly afterward she began to laugh, and then 
to cry, declaring, not in choice Arabic, but in familiar Eng- 
lish, that she was " so glad she didn't know what to do." 

"Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "will you have the 
goodness to inform me where I shall find my voice ; and 
what has become of my flesh ? " 

The Marchioness only shook her head mournfully, and 
cried again, whereupon Mr. Swiveller (being very weak) 
felt his own eyes affected likewise. 

" I begin to infer. Marchioness," said Richard, after a 
pause, "that I have been ill." 

"You just have!" replied the small servant, wiping her 
eyes. " Haven't you been a-talking nonsense ! " 

"Oh!" said Dick. "Very ill, Marchioness, have I 
been?" 

" Dead, all but," replied the small servant. " I never 
thought you'd get better." 

i6 



THE MARCHIONESS 

Mr. Swiveller was silent for a long period. By and by 
he inquired how long he had been there. 

" Three weeks to-morrow." replied the small servant, 
"three long slow weeks." 

The bare thought of having been in such extremity caused 
Richard to fall into another silence. The Marchioness, hav- 
ing arranged the bedclothes more comfortably, and felt that 
his hands and forehead were quite cool, cried a little more, 
and then applied herself to getting tea ready, and making 
some thin dry toast. 

While she was thus engaged Mr. Swiveller looked on 
with a grateful heart, very much astonished to see how thor- 
oughly at home she made herself. She propped him up 
with pillows, and looked on with unutterable satisfaction, 
while he took his poor meal with a relish which the greatest 
dainties of the earth might have failed to provoke. Hav- 
ing cleared away, and disposed everything comfortably about 
him again, she sat down to take her own tea. 

"Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "have you seen Sally 
lately?" 

"Seen her!" cried the small servant. "Bless you, I've 
run away ! " 

Mr. Swiveller immediately laid himself down again, and 
so remained for about five minutes. After that lapse of 
time he resumed his sitting posture, and inquired, 

" And where do you live. Marchioness?" 

" Live ! " cried the small servant. " Here ! " 

" Oh ! " said Mr. Swiveller. 

With that he fell down flat again, as suddenly as if he had 
been shot. Thus he remained until she had finished her 
meal, when being propped up again he opened a further 
conversation. 

"And so," said Dick, "you have run away?" 

17 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" Yes," said the Marchioness; "and they've been a 'tising 
of me." 

" Been — I beg your pardon," said Dick. " What have 
they been doing? " 

" Been a 'tising of me — 'tising, you know, in the news- 
papers," rejoined the Marchioness. 

"Aye, aye," said Dick, "Advertising?" 

The small servant nodded and winked. 

" Tell me," continued Richard, " how it was that you 
thought of coming here ? " 

" Why, you see," returned the Marchioness, " when you 
was gone, I hadn't any friend at all, and I didn't know 
where you was to be found, you know. But one morning, 
when I was near the office keyhole I heard somebody say- 
ing that she lived here, and was the lady whose house you 
lodged at, and that you was took very bad, and wouldn't no- 
body come and take care of you. Mr. Brass, he says, * It's no 
business of mine,' he says ; and Miss Sally she says, * He's a 
funny chap, but it's no business of mine ; ' and the lady went 
away. So I run away that night, and come here, and told 
'em you was my brother, and I've been here ever since." 

" This poor little Marchioness has been wearing herself 
to death!" cried Dick. 

" No, I haven't," she replied, " not a bit of it. Don't you 
mind about me. I like sitting up, and I've often had a 
sleep, bless you, in one of them chairs. But if you could 
have seen how you tried to jump out o' winder, and if you 
could have heard how you used to keep on singing and 
making speeches, you wouldn't have believed it — I'm so 
glad you're better, Mr. Liverer." 

" Liverer, indeed ! " said Dick thoughtfully. " It's well I 
am a liverer. I strongly suspect I should have died, Mar- 
chioness, but for you." 

i8 



THE MARCHIONESS 

At this point, Mr. Swiveller took the small servant's hand 
in his, struggling to express his thanks, but she quickly 
changed the theme, urging him to shut his eyes and take a 
little rest. Being indeed fatigued, he needed but little urg- 
ing, and fell into a slumber, from which he waked in about 
half an hour, after which his small friend helped him to sit 
up again. 

" Marchioness," said Richard suddenly, ** What has be- 
come of Kit?" 

"He has been sentenced to transportation for a great 
many years," she said. 

*' Has he gone?" asked Dick, " His mother, what has be- 
come of her ?" 

His nurse shook her head, and answered that she knew 
nothing about them. " But if I thought," said she pres- 
ently, " that you'd not put yourself into another fever, I 
could tell you something — but I won't, now. Wait till 
you're better, then I'll tell you." 

Dick looked very earnestly at his little friend, and urged 
her to tell him the worst at once. 

Unable to resist his fervent adjurations, the Marchioness 
spoke thus : 

" Well ! Before I run away, I used to sleep in the kitch- 
en. Miss Sally used to keep the key of the door in her 
pocket, and she always come down at night to take away the 
candle and rake out the fire. Then she left me to go to bed 
in the dark, locked the door on the outside, and kept me 
locked up till she came down in the morning and let me out. 
I was terrible afraid of being kept like this, because if there 
was a fire, I thought they might forget me, you know. So, 
whenever I see an old key, I picked it up and tried if it 
would fit the door, and at last I found a key that did fit it. 
They kept me very short," said the small servant, "so I 

19 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

used to come out at night after they'd gone to bed, and feel 
about in the dark, for bits of biscuit, or sangwitches, or even 
pieces of orange-peel to put into cold water, and make be- 
lieve it was wine. If you make believe very much, it's quite 
nice," continued the small servant ; " but if you don't, you 
know, it seems as if it would bear a little more seasoning ! 
Well, one or two nights before the young man was took, I 
come upstairs while Mr. Brass and Miss Sally was a-sittin 
by the office fire and talking softly together. They whis- 
pered and laughed for a long time, about there being no 
danger if it was well done ; that they must do what their 
best client, Quilp, desired, and that for his own reasons, he 
hated Kit, and wanted to have his reputation ruined. Then 
Mr. Brass pulls out his pocket-book, and says, ' Well, here 
it is — Quilp's own five-pound note. Kit is coming to-mor- 
row morning, I know. I'll hold him in conversation, and 
put this property in his hat, and then convict him of theft. 
And if that don't get Kit out of Mr. Quilp's way, and sat- 
isfy his grudge against the lad,' he said, 'the devil's in it.' 
Then they seemed to be moving away, and I was afraid to 
stop any longer. There ! " 

The small servant was so much agitated herself that she 
made no effort to restrain Mr. Swiveller when he sat up in 
bed, and hastily demanded whether this story had been told 
to anybody. 

" How could it be?" replied his nurse. "When I heard 
*em say that you was gone, and so was the lodger, and ever 
since I come here, you've been out of your senses, so what 
would have been the good of telling you then ? " 

" Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, ** if you'll do me the 
favor to retire for a few minutes, and see what sort of a 
night it is, I'll get up," 

" You mustn't think of such a thing," cried his nurse. 

20 



THE MARCHIONESS 

" I must indeed," said the patient. " Whereabouts are 
my clothes ? " 

" Oh, I'm so glad — you haven't got any," replied the Mar- 
chioness. 

" Ma'am ! " said Mr. Swiveller, in great astonishment. 

" I've been obliged to sell them, every one, to get the 
things that was ordered for you. But don't take on about 
that," urged the Marchioness, as Dick fell back upon his pil- 
low, " you're too weak to stand indeed." 

" I'm afraid," said Richard dolefully, " that you're right. 
Now, what is to be done?" 

It occurred to him, on very little reflection, that the first 
step to take would be to communicate with Kit's employer, 
Mr. Garland, or with his son Mr. Abel, at once. It was 
possible that Mr. Abel had not yet left his office. In as 
little time as it takes to tell it, the small servant had the 
address on a piece of paper, and a description of father and 
son, which would enable her to recognize either without 
difficulty. Armed with these slender powers, she hurried 
away, commissioned to bring either Mr. Garland or Mr. 
Abel bodily to Mr. Swiveller's apartment. 

" I suppose," said Dick, as she closed the door slowly, and 
peeped into the room again, to make sure that he was 
comfortable, " I suppose there's nothing left — not so much 
as a waistcoat ? " 

" No, nothing." 

" Its embarrassing," said Mr. Swiveller, "in case of fire — 
even an umbrella would be something — but you did quite 
right, dear Marchioness. I should have died without 
you. 

The small servant went swiftly on her way, towards the 
office of the Notary, Mr. Witherden, where Mr. Garland was 
to be found. She had no bonnet, only a great cap on her 

21 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

head, which in some old time had been worn by Sally Brass ; 
— and her shoes being extremely large and slipshod, flew 
off every now and then, and were difficult to find. Indeed 
the poor little creature experienced so much trouble and delay 
from having to grope for them in the mud, and suffered so 
much jostling, pushing, and squeezing in these researches, 
that between it, and her fear of being recognized by some 
one, and carried back by force to the Brasses, when she 
at last reached the Notary's office, she was fairly worn out, 
and could not refrain from tears. But to have got there 
was a comfort, and she found Mr. Abel in the act of entering 
his pony-chaise and driving away. There was nothing for 
her to do but to run after the chaise and call to Mr. Abel to 
stop. Being out of breath, she was unable to make him 
hear. The case was desperate, for the pony was quickening 
his pace. The Marchioness hung on behind for a few 
moments, and feeling she could go no farther, clambered by 
a vigorous effort into the hinder seat, where she remained 
in silence, until she had to some degree recovered her breath, 
and become accustomed to the novelty of her position, 
when she uttered close into Mr. Abel's ear the words, — 

" I say, sir." 

He turned his head quickly enough then, and stopping 
the pony, cried with some trepidation, " God bless me! what 
is this?" 

" Don't be frightened, sir," replied the still panting mes- 
senger. " Oh, I've run such a way after you ! " 

" What do you want with me?" said Mr. Abel. "How 
did you come here ? " 

" I got in behind," replied the Marchioness. *' Oh, please 
drive on, sir — don't stop — and go towards the City, will 
you ? and oh — do please make haste, because it Is of conse- 
quence. There's somebody wants to see you there. He 

22 



THE MARCHION ESS 

sent me to say, would you come directly, and that he knows 
all about Kit, and could save him yet, and prove his inno- 
cence." 

" What do you tell me, child ? " 

"The truth, upon my word and honor, I do. But please 
to drive on — quick, please ! I've been such a time gone, 
he'll think I'm lost." 

Mr. Abel urged the pony forward, and at last they arrived 
at the door of Mr. Swiveller's lodgings. 

"See! It's that room up there," said the Marchioness, 
pointing to one where there was a faint light. " Come ! " 

Mr. Abel who was naturally timid, hesitated ; for he had 
heard of people being decoyed into strange places, to be 
robbed and murdered, under circumstances very like the 
present, by guides very like the Marchioness. His regard 
for Kit, however, overcame every other consideration. So 
he suffered his companion to lead him up the dark and 
narrow stair, into a dimly lighted sick-chamber, where a man 
was lying tranquilly in bed, in whose wasted face he recog- 
nized the features of Richard Swiveller. 

" Why, how is this ? " said Mr. Abel, kindly, " You have 
been ill ? " 

" Very," replied Dick, " Nearly dead. You might have 
chanced to hear of your Richard on his bier, but for the 
friend I sent to fetch you. Another shake of the hand, 
Marchioness, if you please. Sit down, sir." 

Mr. Abel seemed rather astonished to hear of the quality 
of his guide, and took a chair by the bedside. 

** I have sent for you, sir," said Dick — " but she told you 
on what account ? " 

" She did. I am quite bewildered by all this. I really 
don't know what to say or think," replied Mr. Abel. 

" You'll say that presently," retorted Dick. " Marchion- 

23 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

ess, take a seat on the bed, will you ? Now, tell this gen- 
tleman all that you told me, and be particular." 

The story was repeated, without any deviation or omis- 
sion, after which Richard Swiveller took the word again ; 

"You have heard it all," said Richard. "I'm too giddy 
and queer to suggest anything, but you and your friends 
will know what to do. After this long delay, every minute 
is an age. Don't stop to say one word to me, but go ! If 
you lose another minute in looking at me, sir, I'll never for- 
give you 1 " 

Mr. Abel needed no more persuasion. To Dick's 
unbounded delight he was gone in an instant, and Mr. 
Swiveller, exhausted by the interview, was soon asleep, 
murmuring ' Strew, then, oh strew a bed of rushes. Here 
will we stay till morning blushes.' Good-night, Marchion- 
ess ! 

On awaking in the morning, he became conscious of 
whispering voices in his room, and espied Mr. Garland, Mr. 
Abel, and two other gentlemen talking earnestly with the 
Marchioness. Upon perceiving the invalid to be awake, 
Mr. Garland stretched out his hand, and inquired how Mr. 
Swiveller felt ; adding 

" And what can we do for you ? " 

" If you could make the Marchioness yonder, a Mar- 
chioness in real, sober earnest," returned Dick, "I'd thank 
you to get it done offhand. But as you can't, the question 
is, what is it best to do for Kit ? " 

Gathering around Mr. Swiveller's bedside, the group of 
gentlemen then proceeded to discuss in detail all the evi- 
dence against Sampson Brass, as contained in the confession 
of the Marchioness, and what course was wisest to pursue 
in the matter. After which the gentlemen took their leaves 
for a time, or Richard Swiveller must assuredly have been 

24 



THE MARCHIONESS 

driven into another fever, in consequence of having entered 
into such an exciting discussion. 

Mr. Abel alone remained behind, very often looking at his 
watch and the room-door, until the reason of his watchfulness 
was disclosed when Mr. Swiveller was roused from a short 
nap by the delivery at his door of a mighty hamper, 
which, being opened, disgorged such treasures of tea, and 
coffee, and wine, and rusk, and oranges, and grapes, and 
fowls, and calvesfoot jelly, and other delicate restoratives, 
that the small servant stood rooted to the spot, with her 
mouth and eyes watering in unison, and her power of speech 
quite gone. With the hamper appeared also a nice old lady, 
who bustled about on tiptoe, began to make chicken-broth, 
and peel oranges for the sick man, and to ply the small servant 
with glasses of wine, and choice bits of everything. The 
whole of which was so bewildering that Mr. Swiveller, when 
he had taken two oranges and a little jelly, was fain to lie 
down and fall asleep again, from sheer inability to entertain 
such wonders in his mind. 

Meanwhile the other gentlemen, who had left Richard 
Swiveller's room, had retired to a coffee-house near by, from 
whence they sent a peremptory and mysterious summons 
to Miss Sally Brass to favor them with her company there as 
soon as possible. To this she replied by an almost immedi- 
ate appearance, whereupon, without any loss of time, she 
was confronted with the tale of the small servant. While it 
was being related for her benefit, Sampson Brass himself 
suddenly opened the door of the coffee-house and joined the 
astonished group. Hearing the certain proofs of his guilt 
so clearly related, he saw that evasion was useless, and made 
a full confession of the scheme whereby Kit was to have 
been doomed, but laying the entire blame, however, upon the 
rich little dwarf, Quilp, saying that he could not afford to lose 

25 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

his rich cHent, nor the large bribe he offered for the arrest 
of the lad, Kit. 

Having secured the desired confession, the gentlemen 
hastened back to Mr. Swiveller's room with the glad tidings, 
adding that it would now be possible to accomplish the lad's 
immediate release, after making which joyful statement, 
they took their departure for the night, leaving the invalid 
with the small servant and one of their number, Mr. Wither- 
den, the notary, who remained behind to be the bearer of 
good news to the invalid. 

" I have been making some Inquiries about you," said Mr. 
Witherden, "little thinking that I should find you under 
such circumstances as those which have brought us together. 
You are the nephew of Rebecca Swiveller, spinster, deceased, 
of Cheselbourne, in Dorsetshire." 

" Deceased ! " cried Dick. 

** Deceased. And by the terms of her will, you have 
fallen into an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a 
year ; I think I may congratulate you upon that." 

" Sir," said Dick, sobbing and laughing together, " you 
may. For, please God, we'll make a scholar of the poor 
Marchioness yet. And she shall walk in silk attire, and 
siller have to spare, or may I never rise from this bed 
again ! " 

Mr. Swiveller, recovering very slowly from his illness, 
even with the strong tonic of his good fortune, and entering 
into the receipt of his annuity, bought for the Marchioness 
a handsome stock of clothes, and put her to school forth- 
with, in redemption of the vow he had made upon his 
fevered bed. 

After casting about for some time for a name which 
should be worthy of her, he decided in favor of Sophronia 
Sphynx, as being euphonious and genteel, and, furthermore, 

26 



THE MARCHIONESS 

indicative of mystery. Under this title the Marchioness re- 
paired in tears to the school of his selection, from which, as 
she soon distanced all competitors, she was removed before 
the lapse of many quarters to one of a higher grade. It is 
but bare justice to Mr. Swiveller to say that although the 
expense of her education kept him in straightened circum- 
stances for half-a-dozen years, he never slackened in his zeal, 
and always held himself sufficiently repaid by the accounts 
he heard of her advancement. 

In a word, Mr. Swiveller kept the Marchioness at this 
establishment until she was, at a moderate guess, full nine- 
teen years of age, at which time, thanks to her earliest 
friend and most loyal champion, Richard Swiveller, the 
shadows of a bitter past had been chased from her memory 
by a happy present, and she was as good-looking, clever, 
and good-humored a young woman as ever a real Marchioness 
might have been. 



27 



MORLEENA KENWIGS 



29 



MORLEENA KENWIGS 



THE family who went by the designation of "The 
Kenwigses " were the wife and ohve branches of 
one Mr. Kenwigs, a turner in ivory, who was 
looked upon as a person of some consideration 
where he lodged, inasmuch as he occupied the 
whole of the first floor, comprising a suite of two rooms. 
Mrs. Kenwigs too, was quite a lady in her manners, and of 
a very genteel family, having an uncle, Mr. Lillyvick, who 
collected a water-rate, and who she fondly hoped, would 
make her children his heirs. Besides which distinction, the 
two eldest of her little girls went twice a week to a dancing- 
school in the neighborhood, and had flaxen hair tied with 
blue ribbons, hanging in luxuriant pigtails down their backs, 
and wore little white trousers with frills round the ankles ; — 
for all of which reasons Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs, and the four 
olive Kenwigses, and the baby, were considered quite impor- 
tant persons to know. 

Upon the eighth anniversary of Mrs. Kenwigs* marriage 
to Mr. Kenwigs, they entertained a select party of friends, 
and on that occasion, after supper had been served, the 
group gathered by the fireside ; Mr. Lillyvick being sta- 
tioned in a large arm-chair, and the four little Kenwigses 
disposed on a small form in front of the company, with 
their flaxen tails towards them, and their faces to the fire ; 
an arrangement which was no sooner perfected than Mrs. 

31 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

Kenwigs was overpowered by the feelings of a mother, and 
fell upon Mr. Kenwigs' shoulder, dissolved in tears. 

" They are so beautiful ! " she said, sobbing. " I can — not 
help it, and it don't signify ! Oh, they're too beautiful to 
live — much too beautiful ! " 

On hearing this alarming presentiment of their early 
death, all four little girls raised a hideous cry, and, burying 
their faces in their mother's lap simultaneously, screamed 
until the eight flaxen tails vibrated ; Mrs. Kenwigs mean- 
while clasping them alternately to her bosom, with attitudes 
expressive of distraction. 

At length, however, she permitted herself to be soothed, 
and the little Kenwigses were distributed among the com- 
pany, to prevent the possibility of Mrs. Kenwigs being again 
overcome by the blaze of their united beauty, after which, 
Morleena, the eldest olive branch — whose name had been 
composed by Mrs. Kenwigs herself for the especial benefit 
of her daughter — danced a dance. It was a very beautiful 
figure, comprising a great deal of work for the arms, and 
was received with unbounded applause, as were the various 
accomplishments displayed by others of the party. The 
affair was proceeding most successfully when Mr. Lillyvick 
took offence at a remark made by Mr. Kenwigs, and sat 
swelling and fuming in offended dignity for some minutes, 
then burst out in words of indignation. Here was an 
untoward event ! The great man, — the rich relation — who 
had it in his power to make Morleena an heiress, and the 
very baby a legatee — was offended. Gracious powers, 
where would this end ! 

" I am very sorry, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs humbly, but the 
apology was not accepted, and Mr. Lillyvick continued to 
repeat; "Morleena, child, my hat! Morleena, my hat!" 
until Mrs. Kenwigs sunk back in her chair, overcome with 

32 



MORLEENA KENWIGS 

grief, while the four little girls (privately instructed to that 
effect) clasped their uncle's drab shorts in their arms, and 
prayed him to remain. 

"Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs, "I hope for the sake of 
your niece that you won't object to being reconciled." 

The collector's face relaxed, as the company added their 
entreaties to those of their host. He gave up his hat and 
held out his hand. 

" There, Kenwigs," he said. " And let me tell you at the 
same time, to show you how much out of temper I was, that 
if I had gone away without another word, it would have 
made no difference respecting that pound or two which I 
shall leave among your children when I die." 

" Morleena Kenwigs," cried her mother, in a torrent of 
affection ; " go down upon your knees to your dear uncle 
and beg him to love you all his life through, for he's more 
an angel than a man, and I've always said so." 

Miss Morleena, approaching to do homage, was summar- 
ily caught up and kissed by Mr. Lillyvick, and thereupon 
Mrs. Kenwigs herself darted forward and kissed the collec- 
tor, and all was forgiven and forgotten. 

No further wave of trouble rufffed the feelings of the 
party until suddenly there came shrill and piercing screams 
from an upper room in which the infant Kenwigs was en- 
shrined, guarded by a small girl hired for the purpose. 
Rushing to the door, Mrs. Kenwigs began to wring her 
hands and shriek dismally, amid which cries, and the wails 
of the four little girls, a stranger ran downstairs with the 
baby in his arms, explaining hastily that, visiting a friend in 
a room above, he had heard the cries, and found the baby's 
guardian asleep with her hair on fire. This explanation 
over, the baby, who was unhurt, and who rejoiced in the 
name of Lillyvick Kenwigs, was instantly almost suffocated 

33 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

under the caresses of the audience, and squeezed to his 
mother's bosom until he roared again. Then, after drinking 
the health of the child's preserver, the company made the 
discovery that it was nigh two o'clock, whereat they took 
their leave, with flattering expressions of the pleasure they 
had enjoyed, to which Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs replied by 
thanking them, and hoping they had enjoyed themselves 
only half as well as they said they had. 

The young man, Nicholas Nickleby by name, who had 
rescued the baby, made such an impression upon Mrs. Ken- 
wigs that she felt impelled to propose through the friend 
whom he had been visiting, that he should instruct the four 
little Kenwigses in the French language at the weekly sti- 
pend of five shillings ; being at the rate of one shilling per 
week, per each Miss Kenwigs, and one shilling over until such 
time as the baby might be able to take it out in grammar. 

This proposition was accepted with alacrity by Nicholas, 
who betook himself to the Kenwigs' apartment with all 
speed. Here he found the four Miss Kenwigses on their form 
of audience, and the baby in a dwarf porter's chair, with a deal 
tray before it, amusing himself with a toy horse, while Mrs. 
Kenwigs spoke to the little girls of the superior advantages 
they enjoyed above other children. " But I hope," she 
said, " that that will not make them proud; but that they 
will bless their own good fortune which has born them 
superior to common people's children. And when you go 
out in the streets, or elsewhere, I desire that you don't boast 
of it to the other children," continued Mrs. Kenwigs, "and 
that if you must say anything about it, you don't say no 
more than 'we've got a private master comes to teach us at 
home, but we ain't proud, because Ma says its sinful.' Do 
you hear, Morleena ? " 

Upon the eldest Miss Kenwigs replying meekly that she 

34 



MORLEENA KENWIGS 

did, permission was conceded for the lesson to commence, 
and accordingly the four Miss Kenwigses again arranged 
themselves upon their form, in a row, with their tails all one 
way, while Nicholas Nickleby began his preliminary ex- 
planations. 

Some months after this, the Kenwigses were thrown into 
a fever of rage and disappointment, by receiving the cruel 
news of their Uncle Lilly vick's marriage, which blow was a 
terrible one to Mrs. Kenwigs, blighting her hopes for her 
children's future. After weeping and wailing in the most 
agonized fashion, Mrs. Kenwig drew herself up in proud 
defiance, and denounced her uncle in terms direct and plain, 
stating that he should never again darken her doors. In 
this terrible state of affairs, it remained for Morleena of the 
flaxen tails, to bring about a family re-union, and in this 
way : 

It had come to pass that she had received an invitation 
to repair next day, per steamer from Westminster bridge, 
unto the Eel-Pie Island at Twickenham, there to make 
merry upon a cold collation, and to dance in the open air to 
the music of a locomotive band ; the steamer having been 
engaged by a dancing-master for his numerous pupils, one 
of whom had extended an invitation to Miss Morleena, and 
Mrs. Kenwigs rightly deemed the honor of the family was 
involved in her daughter making the most splendid appear- 
ance possible. Now, between the Italian-ironing of frills, 
the flouncing of trousers, the trimming of frocks, the faint- 
ings from overwork and the comings-to again, incidental to 
the occasion, Mrs. Kenwigs had been so entirely occupied, 
that she had not observed, until within half an hour before, 
that the flaxen tails of Miss Morleena were in a manner, 
run to seed ; and that unless she were put under the hands 
of a skilful hairdresser she never could achieve that signal 

35 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

triumph over the daughters of all other people, anything 
less than which would be tantamount to defeat. This dis- 
covery drove Mrs. Kenwigs to despair, for the hairdresser 
lived three streets and eight dangerous crossings off, and 
there was nobody to take her. So Mrs. Kenwigs first 
slapped Miss Kenwigs for being the cause of her vexation, 
and then shed tears. 

" I can't help it, ma," replied Morleena, also in tears, 
" my hair will grow ! " While they were both still bemoan- 
ing and weeping, a fellow lodger in the house came upon 
them, and hearing of their difficulty, offered to escort Miss 
Morleena to the barber-shop, and at once led her in safety 
to that establishment. The proprietor, knowing she had 
three sisters, each with two flaxen tails, and all good for 
sixpence apiece a month at least, promptly deserted an old 
gentleman whom he had just lathered for shaving, and 
waited on the young lady himself. The old gentleman 
raising his head. Miss Kenwigs noticed his face and uttered 
a shrill little scream, — it was her Uncle Lilly vick ! 

Hearing his name pronounced, Mr. Lillyvick groaned, 
then coughed to hide it, and consigning himself to the hands 
of an assistant, commenced a colloquy with Miss Morleena's 
escort, rather striving to escape the notice of Miss Morleena 
herself, and so remarkable did this behavior seem to her, 
that at the imminent hazard of having her ear sliced off, she 
could not forbear looking round at him some score of times. 

The cutting and curling being at last concluded, the old 
gentleman, who had been finished some time, and simply 
waiting, rose to go also, and walked out of the establish- 
ment with Miss Morleena and her escort, proceeding with 
them, in profound silence until they had nearly reached 
Miss Morleena's home, when he asked if her family had 
been very much overpowered by the news of his marriage. 

36 



MORLEENA KENWIGS 

" It made ma cry when she knew it," answered Miss 
Morleena, "and pa was very low in his spirits, but he is 
better now, and I was very ill, but I am better too." 

" Would you give your great-uncle Lillyvick a kiss, if he 
was to ask you, Morleena ? " said the collector, with some 
hesitation. 

"Yes, Uncle Lillyvick, I would," returned Miss Morleena 
with no hesitation whatsoever, whereupon Mr. Lillyvick 
caught her in his arms and kissed her, and being by this 
time at the door of the house, he walked straight up into 
the Kenwigses' sitting-room and put her down in their 
midst. The surprise and delight that reigned in the 
bosom of the Kenwigses at the unexpected sight, was only 
heightened by the joyful intelligence that their uncle's mar- 
ried life had been both brief and unsatisfactory, and by his 
further statement : 

" Out of regard for you, Susan and Kenwigs, I shall to- 
morrow morning settle upon your children, and make pay- 
able to their survivors when they come of age, or marry, 
that money which I once meant to leave 'em in my will. 
The deed shall be executed to-morrow ! " 

Overcome by this noble and generous offer, and by their 
emotion, Mr. Kenwigs, Mrs. Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena 
Kenwigs all began to sob together, and the noise com- 
municating itself to the next room where the other children 
lay a-bed, and causing them to cry too, Mr. Kenwigs rushed 
wildly in, and bringing them out in his arms, by two and 
two, tumbled them down in their night-caps and gowns at 
the feet of Mr. Lillyvick, and called upon them to thank 
and bless him. 

And this wonderful domestic scene, — this family recon- 
ciliation was brought about by Miss Morleena, eldest of 
the four little Kenwigses, with the flaxen tails ! 

37 



LITTLE NELL 



39 




X 

< 

D 

< 



LITTLE NELL 



THERE was once an old man, whose daughter 
dying, left in his care two orphan children, a son 
twelve years old, and little Nell, a younger girl. 
The grandfather was now an old and feeble man, 
but gathering himself together as best he could, 
he began to trade ; — in pictures first — and then in curious 
ancient things, and from the Old Curiosity Shop, as it was 
called, he was able to obtain a slender income. 

The boy grew into a wayward youth, and soon quitted 
his grandfather's home for companions more suited to his 
taste, but sweet little Nell remained, and grew so like her 
mother, that when the old man had her on his knee, and 
looked into her mild blue eyes, he felt as if his daughter 
had come back, a child again. 

The old man and little Nell dwelt alone, — he loving her 
with a passionate devotion, and haunted with a fearful dread 
lest she should be left to a life of poverty and want, when 
he should be called to leave her. This fear so overmastered 
him that it led him to the gaming-table, and — for her sake 
— he became a professional gambler, hoping to lay by a vast 
fortune for her future use. But he lost heavily and con- 
stantly, until his slender resources were exhausted, and he 
was obliged to borrow money from the rich little dwarf 
money-lender, Quilp, pledging his stock as security for the 
loans. 

But of all this Little Nell knew nothing, or she would 

41 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

have implored him to give up the dangerous practice. She 
only knew that, after her monotonous days, uncheckered by 
variety and uncheered by pleasant companionship, the old 
man, who seemed always agitated by some hidden care, and 
weak and wandering in his mind, taking his cloak and hat 
and stick, would pass from the house, leaving her alone, 
through the dreary evenings and long solitary nights. 

It was not the absence of such pleasures as make young 
hearts beat high, that brought tears to Nell's eyes. It was 
the sight of the old man's feeble state of mind and body, 
and the fear that some night he should fail to come home, 
having been overtaken by illness or sudden death. Such 
fears as these drove the roses from her smooth young cheeks, 
and stilled the songs which before had rung through the dim 
old shop, while the gay, lightsome step passed among the 
dusty treasures. Now she seldom smiled or sang, and 
among the few bits of comedy in her sad days, were the 
visits of Kit Nubbles, her grandfather's errand boy, a shock- 
headed, shambling, comical lad, whose devotion to the 
beautiful child verged on worship. Appreciating Nell's 
loneliness. Kit visited the shop as often as possible, and the 
exquisite oddity and awkwardness of his manner so amused 
her that at sight of him she would give way to genuine 
merriment. Kit himself, being always flattered by the sen- 
sation he produced, would often burst into a loud roar, and 
stand with his mouth wide open, and his eyes nearly shut, 
laughing violently. 

Twice every week Nell gave the lad a writing lesson, to 
the great mirth and enjoyment of them both, and each time 
Kit tucked up his sleeves, squared his elbows, and put his 
face very close to the copy-book, squinting horribly at the 
lines, fairly wallowing in blots, and daubing himself with ink 
up to the roots of his hair, — and if he did by accident form a 

42 



LITTLE NELL 

letter properly, he immediately smeared it out again with 
his arm — and at every fresh mistake there was a fresh burst 
of merriment from the child and from poor Kit himself. 

But of such happy times sweet Nell had few, and she be- 
came more anxious about her grandfather's health, as he 
became daily more worried over the secret which he would 
not share with her, and which preyed upon his mind and 
body with increasing ravages. 

Fortune did not favor his ventures, and Quilp, having 
discovered for what purpose he borrowed such large sums, 
refused him further loans. In an agony of apprehension 
for the future, the old man told Nell that he had had heavy 
losses, that they would soon be beggars. 

" What if we are ? " said the child boldly. ** Let us be 
beggars, and be happy." 

"Beggars — and happy!" said the old man. "Poor 
child ! " 

** Dear grandfather," cried the girl, with an energy which 
shone in her flushed face, trembling voice, and impassioned 
gestures, " O, hear me pray that we may beg, or work in 
open roads or fields, to earn a scanty living, rather than live 
as we do now." 

" Nelly ! " said the old man. 

** Yes, yes, rather than live as we do now," the child re- 
peated, "do not let me see such change in you, and not 
know why, or I shall break my heart and die. Dear grand- 
father, let us leave this sad place to-morrow, and beg our 
way from door to door." 

The old man covered his face with his hands, as the child 
added, " Let us be beggars. I have no fear but we shall 
have enough : I'm sure we shall. Let us walk through 
country places, and never think of money again, or anything 
that can make you sad, but rest at nights, and have the sun 

43 



TEN GlKhS from DICKENS 

and wind on our faces in the day, and thank God together ! 
Let us never set foot in dark rooms or melancholy houses 
any more, but wander up and down wherever we like to go, 
and when you are tired, you shall stop to rest in the pleas- 
antest places we can find, and I will go and beg for both." 

The child's voice was lost in sobs as she dropped upon 
the old man's neck ; nor did she weep alone. 

That very day news came that the Old Curiosity Shop 
and its contents would at once pass into Quilp's hands, in 
payment of the old man's debts. In vain he pleaded for 
one more chance to redeem himself — for one more loan — 
Quilp was firm in his refusal of further help, and little Nell 
found the old man, overcome by the news, lying upon the 
floor of his room, alarmingly ill. For weeks he lay raving 
in the delirium of fever, little Nell alone beside him, nursing 
him with a single-hearted devotion. The house was no 
longer theirs; even the sick chamber they retained by 
special favor until such time as the old man could be re- 
moved. Meanwhile, Mr. Quilp had taken formal possession 
of the premises, and to make sure that no more business 
was transacted in the shop, was encamped in the back par- 
lor. So keen was Nell's dread of even the sound of the 
dwarf's voice, that she lived in continual apprehension of 
meeting him on the stairs, or in the passage, and seldom 
stirred from her grandfather's room. 

At length the old man began to mend — he was patient 
and quiet, easily amused, and made no complaint, but his 
mind was forever weakened, and he seemed to have only a 
dazed recollection of what had happened. Even when 
Quilp told him that in two days he must be moved out of 
the shop, he seemed not to take it to heart, wandering 
around the house, a very child in act and thought. But a 
change came over him on the second evening, as he and 

44 



LITTLE NELL 

little Nell sat silently together. He was moved — shed tears 
— begged Nell's forgiveness for what he had made her suf- 
fer — seemed like one comingr out of a dream — and urtred 
her to help him in acting upon what they had talked of 
doing long before. 

" We will not stop here another day," he said, "we will 
go far away from here. We will travel afoot through the 
fields and woods, and by the side of rivers, and trust our- 
selves to God in the places where He dwells. It is far bet- 
ter to lie down at night beneath an open sky than to rest in 
close rooms, which are always full of care and weary dreams. 
Thou and I together, Nell, may be cheerful and happy yet, 
and learn to forget this time, as if it had never been." 

"We will be happy," cried the child. "We never can 
be, here ! " 

"No, we never can again — never again — that's truly 
said," rejoined the old man. " Let us steal away to-morrow 
morning, early and softly, that we may not be seen or 
heard — and leave no trace or track for them to follow by. 
Poor Nell ! Thy cheek is pale, and thy eyes are heavy with 
watching and weeping for me ; but thou wilt be well again, 
and merry too, when we are far away. To-morrow morning, 
dear, we will turn our faces from this scene of sorrow, and 
be as free and happy as the birds." 

The child's heart beat high with hope and confidence. 
She had no thought of hunger or cold, or thirst, or suffer- 
ing. She saw in this a relief from the gloomy solitude in 
which she had lived, an escape from the heartless people by 
whom she had been surrounded in her late time of trial, the 
restoration of the old man's health and peace, and a life of 
tranquil happiness. Sun, and stream, and meadow, and 
summer days shone brightly in her view, and there was no 
dark tint in all the sparkling picture. 

45 



^ 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

The old man had slept for some hours soundly, and she 
was yet busily engaged in preparing for their flight. There 
were a few articles of clothing for herself to carry, and a 
few for him, and a staff to support his feeble steps. But 
this was not all her task, for now she must say farewell to 
her own little room, where she had so often knelt down and 
prayed at night — prayed for the time which she hoped was 
dawning now ! There were some trifles there, which she 
would have liked to take away, but that was impossible. 
She wept bitterly to leave her poor bird behind, until the 
idea occurred to her that it might fall into the hands of Kit, 
who would keep and cherish it for her sake. She was 
calmed and comforted by this thought, and went to rest 
with a lighter heart. 

At length the day began to glimmer, when she arose and 
dressed herself for the journey, and with the old man, trod 
lightly down the stairs. At last they reached the ground- 
floor, got the door open without noise, and passing into the 
street, stood still. 

" Which way ? " said the child. 

The old man looked irresolutely and helplessly to the 
right and left, then at her, and shook his head. It was plain 
that she was henceforth his guide and leader. The child 
felt it, but had no doubts or misgivings, and putting her 
hand in his, led him gently away. 

It was the beginning of a day in June ; the deep blue sky 
unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The 
streets were as yet free of passengers, the houses and shops 
were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath 
from angels on the sleeping town. 

The old man and the child passed on through the glad 
silence, elate with hope and pleasure. Every object was 
bright and fresh ; nothing reminded them, otherwise than 

46 



LITTLE NELL 

by contrast, of the monotony and restraint they had left 
behind. 

Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two 
poor adventurers, wandering they knew not whither, often 
pressing each other's hands, or exchanging a smile, as they 
pursued their way through the city streets, through the 
haunts of traffic and great commerce, where business was 
already rife. The old man looked about him with a be- 
wildered gaze, for these were places that he hoped to shun, 
nor did he seem at ease until at last they felt that they 
were clear of London, and sat down to rest, and eat their 
frugal breakfast from little Nell's basket. 

The freshness of the day, the singing of the birds, the 
beauty of the waving grass, the wild flowers, and the thou- 
sand exquisite scents and sounds that floated in the air, sunk 
into their breasts, and made them very glad. The child 
had repeated her artless prayers once that morning, more 
earnestly, perhaps, than she had ever done in her life ; but 
as she felt all this, they rose to her lips again. The old 
man took off his hat — he had no memory for the words — 
but he said Amen, and that they were very good. 

"Are you tired?" asked the child. "Are you sure you 
don't feel ill from this long walk ? " 

" I shall never feel ill again, now that we are once away," 
was his reply. " Let us be stirring, Nell. We are too near 
to stop and be at rest. Come ! " 

They were now in the open country, through which they 
walked all day, and slept that night at a cottage where beds 
were let to travellers. Next morning they were afoot 
again, and still kept on until nearly five o'clock in the after- 
noon, when they stopped at a laborer's hut, asking per- 
mission to rest awhile and buy a draught of milk. The 
request was granted, and after having some refreshments 

47 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

a,n(;l rest, Nell yielded to the old man's fretful demand to 
travel on again, and they trudged forward for another mile, 
thankful for a lift given them by a kindly driver going their 
way, for they could scarcely crawl along. To them the jolt- 
ing cart was a luxurious carriage, and the ride the most 
delicious in the world. Nell had scarcely settled herself in 
one corner of the cart when she fell fast asleep, and was 
only awakened by its stopping when their ways parted. 
The driver pointing out the town in the near distance, di- 
rected them to take the path leading through the church- 
yard. Accordingly, to this spot they directed their weary 
steps, and presently came upon two men who were seated 
upon the grass. It was not difficult to divine that they 
were itinerant showmen — exhibitors of the freaks of Punch 
— for, perched cross-legged upon a tombstone behind them, 
was a figure of that hero himself, his nose and chin as 
hooked, and his face as beaming as usual ; while scattered 
upon the ground, and jumbled together in a long box, were 
the other persons of the drama. The hero's wife and one 
child, the hobby-horse, the doctor, the foreign gentleman, 
the executioner, and the devil, all were here. Their owners 
had evidently come to that spot to make some needful re- 
pairs in their stock, for one of them was engaged in binding 
together a small gallows with thread, while the other was 
intent upon fixing a new black wig. 

They greeted the strangers with a nod, and the old man 
sitting down beside them, and looking at the figures with 
extreme delight, began to talk. While they chatted, Mr. 
Short, a little merry, red-faced man with twinkling eyes, 
turning over the figures in the box, drew one forth, saying 
ruefully to his companion, Codlin by name : " Look here, 
here's all this Judy's clothes falling to pieces again. You 
haven't got needle and thread, I suppose ? " 

48 



LITTLE NELL 

The little man shook his head, and seeing that they were 
at a loss, Nell said timidly : 

" I have a needle, sir, in my basket, and thread too. Will 
you let me try to mend it for you ? I think I could do it 
neater than you could." 

As Mr. Codlin had nothing to urge against a proposal so 
seasonable, Nelly was soon busily engaged in her task, and 
accomplishing it to a miracle. While she was thus engaged, 
the merry little man looked at her with an interest which 
did not appear to be diminished when he glanced at her 
helpless companion. When she had finished her work, he 
thanked her, and inquired whither they were travelling. 

** N-no further to-night, I think," said the child, looking 
toward her grandfather. 

" If you're wanting a place to stop at," the man remarked, 
" I should advise you to take up at the same house with us. 
The long, low, white house there. It's very cheap." 

The old man, who would have remained in the churchyard 
all night if his new acquaintances had stayed there too, 
yielded to this suggestion a ready and rapturous assent, 
and they all rose and walked away together to the public 
house, where, after witnessing an exhibition of the show, 
they had a good supper, but Nell was too tired to eat, and 
was grateful when they retired to the loft where they were 
to rest. The old man was uneasy when he had lain down, 
and begged that Nell would come and sit at his bedside as 
she had done for so many nights. She sat there till he 
slept, then went to her own room and sat thinking of the 
life that was before them. 

She had a little money, but it was very little, and when 
that was gone, they must begin to beg. There was one 
piece of gold among it, and an emergency might come when 
its worth to them might be increased a hundredfold. It 

49 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

would be best to hide this coin, and never produce it unless 
their case was absolutely desperate. Her resolution taken, 
she sewed the piece of gold into her dress, and going to bed 
with a lighter heart, sunk into a deep slumber. 

On the following morning, Mr. Short asked Nell, " And 
where are you going to-day ? " 

" Indeed I hardly know," replied the child. 

" We're going on to the races," said the little man. "If 
you'd like to have us for company, let us travel together." 

" We'll go with you," said the old man eagerly. " Nell — 
with them, with them." 

The child considered for a moment, and reflecting that 
she must soon beg, and could scarcely do so at a better 
place, thanked the little man for his offer, and said they 
would accompany him. 

Presently they started off and made a long day's journey, 
and were yet upon the road when night came on. Threat- 
ening clouds soon gave place to a heavy rain, and the party 
took refuge for the night in a roadside inn, where they 
found a mighty fire blazing upon the hearth, and savory 
smells coming from iron pots. 

Furnished with slippers and dry garments, and overpow- 
ered by the warmth and comfort of the room and the fatigue 
they had undergone, Nelly and the old man had not long 
taken seats in the warm chimney-corner when they fell 
asleep. 

" Who are they ? " whispered the landlord. 

Short and Codlin shook their heads. ** They're no harm," 
said Short. " Depend upon that. I tell you what — it's 
plain that the old man aren't in his right mind — I believe 
that he's given his friends the slip and persuaded this deli- 
cate young creature, all along of her fondness for him, to be 
his guide and travelling companion — where to, he knows 

50 



LITTLE NELL 

no more than the man in the moon. Now I'm not 
a-goin' to stand that. I'm not a-goin' to see this fair young 
child a-falhng into bad hands, and getting among people 
that she's no more fit for, than they are to get among 
angels as their ordinary chums. Therefore when they de- 
welop an intention of parting company from us, I shall take 
measures for detainin' of 'em and restoring them to their 
friends, who, I dare say, have had their disconsolation pasted 
up on every wall in London by this time. 

" Short," said Mr. Codlin, " it's possible there may be un- 
common good sense in what you've said. If there is, and 
there should be a reward, Short, remember that we are 
partners in everything!" 

His companion had only time to nod a brief assent to 
this proposition, for the child awoke at the instant, as 
strange footsteps were heard without, and fresh company 
entered. 

These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who 
came pattering in, headed by an old bandy dog, who erected 
himself upon his hind legs, and looked around at his com- 
panions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs in a 
grave and melancholy row. These dogs each wore a kind 
of little coat of some gaudy color, trimmed with tarnished 
spangles, and one of them had a cap upon his head, tied un- 
der his chin, which had fallen down upon his nose, and com- 
pletely obscured one eye. Add to this, that the gaudy 
coats were all wet through with rain, and that the wearers 
were all splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed 
'of the unusual appearance of the new visitors to the inn. 
Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, disencumbering 
himself of a barrel-organ, and retaining in his hand a small 
whip, came up to the fire and entered into conversation. 
The landlord then busied himself in laying the cloth for 

51 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

supper, which, being at length ready to serve, little Nell 
ventured to say grace, and supper began. 

At this juncture the poor dogs were standing upon their 
hind legs quite surprisingly. The child, having pity on 
them, was about to cast some morsels of food to them be- 
fore she tasted it herself, hungry though she was, when their 
master interposed. 

** No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but 
mine, please. That dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old 
leader of the troop, and speaking in a terrible voice, " lost a 
half-penny to-day. He goes without his supper." 

The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs di- 
rectly, wagged his tail, and looked imploringly at his master. 

"You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, walking 
coolly to the chair where he had placed the organ, and set- 
ting the stop. " Come here. Now, sir, you play away at 
that while we have supper, and leave off if you dare." 

The dog immediately began to grind most mournful mu- 
sic. His master, having shown him the whip, called up the 
others, who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing up- 
riofht as a file of soldiers. 

*' Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them atten- 
tively, ** the dog whose name is called, eats. Carlo ! " 

The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up 
the morsel thrown towards him, but none of the others 
moved a muscle. Meanwhile the dogf in disg-race p-round 
hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in 
slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the knives 
and forks rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an 
unusually large piece of fat, he accompanied the music with 
a short howl ; but he immediately checked it on his master 
looking around, and applied himself with increased diligence 
to the Old Hundredth. 

52 



Little nelL 

That night, from various conversations in which CodHn 
and Short took pains to engage her, little Nell began to 
have misgivings concerning their protestations of friendship, 
and to suspect their motives. These misgivings made the 
child anxious and uneasy, as the party travelled on towards 
the town where the races were to begin next day. 

It was dark when they reached the town, and there all 
was tumult and confusion. The streets were filled with 
throngs of people, the church-bells rang out their noisy 
peals, and flags streamed from windows and house-tops, 
while shrill flageolets and deafening drums added to the 
uproar. 

Through this delirious scene, the child, frightened and 
repelled by all she saw, led on her bewildered charge, cling- 
ing close to her conductor, and trembling lest she should be 
separated from him, and left to find her way alone. Quick- 
ening their steps they made for the racecourse, which was 
upon an open heath. There were many people here, none 
of the best-favored or best clad, busily erecting tents, but 
the child felt it an escape from the town, and drew her 
breath more freely. After a scanty supper, she and the old 
man lay down to rest in a corner of a tent, and slept, despite 
the busy preparations that were going on around them all 
night long. 

And now they had come to the time when they must beg 
their bread. Soon after sunrise in the morning Nell stole 
out, and plucked a few wild roses and such humble flowers, 
to make into little nosegays and offer to the ladies in the 
carriages when the company arrived. Her thoughts were 
not idle while she was thus employed. When she returned 
and was seated beside the old man, tying her flowers to- 
gether, while Codlin and Short lay dozing in another corner, 
she said in a low voice : 

53 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" Grandfather, don't look at those I talk of, and don't 
seem as if I spoke of anything but what I'm about. What 
was that you told me before we left the old house ? — that 
if they knew what we were going to do, they would say that 
you were mad, and part us ? " 

The old man turned to her with an aspect of wild terror ; 
but she checked him by a look, adding, " Grandfather, these 
men suspect that we have secretly left our friends, and mean 
to carry us before some gentlemen, and have us taken care of, 
and sent back. If you let your hand tremble so, we can 
never get away from them, but if you're only quiet now, we 
shall do so easily." 

"How?" muttered the old man. "Dear Nelly, how? 
They will shut me up in a stone room, dark and cold, and 
chain me to the wall, Nell — flog me with whips, and never 
let me see thee more ! " 

'* You're trembling again ! " said the child. '* Keep close 
to me all day. I shall find a time when we can steal away. 
When I do, mind you come with me, and do not stop or 
speak a word. Hush ! that's all." 

" Halloa ! what are you up to, my dear ? " said Mr. Codlin, 
raising his head and yawning. 

" Making some nosegays," the child replied ; " I'm go- 
ing to try to sell some. Will you have one? — as a pres- 
ent, I mean." Mr. Codlin stuck it in his buttonhole with 
an air of ineffable complacency, and laid himself down again. 

As the morning wore on, the tents assumed a more bril- 
liant appearance. Men, who had lounged about in smock 
frocks and leather leggings, came out in silken vests and 
hats and plumes, as jugglers or mountebanks. Black-eyed 
gypsy girls, hooded in showy handkerchiefs, sallied forth to 
tell fortunes. The dancing dogs, the stilts, the little lady 
and the tall man and all the other attractions, with organs 

54 



LITTLE NELL. 

out of number, and bands innumerable, emerged from the 
corners in which they had passed the night, and flourished 
boldly in the sun. 

Along the uncleared course, Short led his party, sounding 
the brazen trumpet, and at his heels went Thomas Codlin, 
bearing the show, and keeping his eyes on Nelly and her 
grandfather, as they rather lingered in the rear. The child 
bore upon her arm the little basket with her flowers, and some- 
times stopped, with timid looks, to offer them at some gay car- 
riage, but, alas ! there were many bolder beggars there, adepts 
at their trade, and although some ladies smiled gently as they 
shook their heads, and others cried : " See, what a pretty 
face ! " they let the pretty face pass on, and never thought 
that it looked tired or hungry, and among all that gay 
throng, there was but one lady, who, taking her flowers, put 
money in the child's trembling hand. 

At length, late in the day, Mr. Codlin pitched the show 
in a convenient spot, and the spectators were soon in the very 
triumph of the scene. The child, sitting down with the old 
man close behind it, was roused from her meditation by a 
loud laugh at some witticism of Mr. Short. 

If they were ever to get away unseen, that was the very 
moment. Short and Codlin were absorbed in giving the 
show, and in coaxing sixpences from the people's pockets, 
and the spectators were looking on with laughing faces. 
That was the moment for escape. They seized it and fled. 

They made a path through booths, and carriages, and 
throngs of people, and never once stopped to look behind, 
but creeping under the brow of the hill at a quick pace, 
made for the open fields, and not until they were quite ex- 
hausted ventured to sit down to rest upon the borders of a 
little wood, and some time elapsed before the child could 
reassure her trembling companion, or restore him to a 

55 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

state of moderate tranquillity. His terrors affected her. 
Separation from her grandfather was the greatest evil she 
could dread ; and feeling for the time, as though, go where 
they would, they were to be hunted down, and could never 
be safe in hiding, her heart failed her, and her courage 
drooped. Then, remembering how weak her companion 
was, and how destitute and helpless he would be if she failed 
him, she was animated with new strength and fortitude, and 
assured him that they had nothing to fear. Luring him 
onward through the woods with happy looks and smiles, the 
serenity which she had at first assumed, stole into her 
breast in earnest. The old man cast no longer fearful looks 
behind, but felt at ease and cheerful, for the further they 
passed into the deep green shade of the woods, the more 
they felt that the tranquil mind of God was there, and shed 
its peace on them. 

At length the path brought them to a public road which 
to their great joy at last led into the centre of a small vil- 
lage. Uncertain where to seek a lodging, they approached 
an old man sitting in a garden before his cottage. He was 
the schoolmaster, and had " School " written over his window 
in black letters. He was a pale, simple-looking man, and 
sat among his flowers and beehives, taking no notice of the 
travellers, until Nell approached him, dropping a curtsey, 
and asking if he could direct them anywhere to obtain a 
shelter for the night. 

" You have been walking a long way ? " said the school- 
master. 

"A long way, sir," the child replied. 

"You're a young traveller, my child," he said, laying his 
hand gently on her head. ** Your grandchild, friend ? " 

"Aye, sir," cried the old man, "and the stay and comfort 
of my life." 

56 

^1 



LITTLE NELL 

" Come in," said the schoolmaster. 

Without further preface, he conducted them into his little 
schoolroom, which was parlor and kitchen likewise, and told 
them they were welcome to remain till morning. Before 
they had done thanking him, he spread the table, and be- 
sought them to eat and drink. 

After a sound night's rest in the little cottage, Nell rose 
early, and was attempting to make the room in which she 
had supped last night neat and comfortable, when their 
kind host came in. She asked leave to prepare breakfast, 
and the three soon partook of it together. While the 
meal was in progress, their host remarked that the old 
man stood in need of rest, and that he should be glad of 
their company for another night. It required no great 
persuasion to induce the child to answer that they would 
remain. She was happy to show her gratitude to the kind 
schoolmaster by performing such household duties as his 
little cottage stood in need of. When these were done, 
she took some needlework from her basket, and sat down 
beside the lattice, where the honeysuckle and woodbine 
filled the room with their delicious breath. Her grandfather 
was basking in the sun outside, breathing the perfume of 
the flowers, and idly watching the clouds as they floated on 
before the light summer wind. Presently the schoolmaster 
took his seat behind his desk, and as he seemed pleased to 
have little Nell beside him, she busied herself with her work, 
entering into conversation with the schoolmaster while the 
scholars conned their lessons, and watching the boys with 
eager and attentive interest. 

Upon the following morning there remained for the 
travellers only to take leave of the poor schoolmaster, and 
wander forth once more. With a trembling and reluctant 
hand, the child held out to their kind host the money which 

57 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the lady had given her at the races for her flowers, fal- 
tering in her thanks, and blushing as she offered it. But 
he bade her put it up, and kissing her cheek, wished her 
good fortune and happiness, adding, " If you ever pass 
this way again, you will not forget the little village 
school ? " 

"We shall never forget it, sir," rejoined Nell, " nor ever 
forget to be grateful to you for your kindness to us." 

They bade him farewell very many times, often looking 
back, until they could see him no more. They trudged on- 
ward now at a quicker pace, resolving to keep the main road, 
and go wherever it might lead them. The afternoon had 
worn away into a beautiful evening when the road struck 
across a common. On the border of this common, a cara- 
van was drawn up to rest. 

It was not a shabby, dingy cart, but a smart little house 
upon wheels, with white dimity curtains festooning the win- 
dows, and window-shutters of green picked out with panels 
of a staring red. Neither was it a poor caravan drawn by 
a single donkey or emaciated horse, for a pair of horses in 
pretty good condition were released from the shafts, and 
grazing upon the frowzy grass. Neither was it a gypsy 
caravan, for at the open door (graced with a bright brass 
knocker) sat a Christian lady, stout and comfortable to look 
upon, who wore a large bonnet, trembling with bows. And 
that it was not an unprovided or destitute caravan, was clear 
from this lady's occupation, which was the very refreshing 
one of drinking tea. The tea things were set forth upon a 
drum covered with a napkin ; and there sat this roving lady, 
taking her tea and enjoying the prospect. As she was in 
the act of setting down her cup, she beheld an old man and 
a young child walking slowly by, and glancing at her pro- 
ceedings with eyes of modest but hungry admiration. 

58 



LITTLE NELL 

" Hey ! " cried the lady of the caravan, '* Yes, to be sure 
— Who won the Helter-Skelter Plate ? " 

" Won what, ma'am ? " asked Nell. 

" The Helter-Skelter Plate at the races, child. Can't you 
say who won the Helter-Skelter Plate when you're asked a 
question civilly ? " 

" I don't know, ma'am," 

" Don't know ! " repeated the lady of the caravan ; " Why, 
you were there. I saw you with my own eyes." 

Nell was not a little alarmed to hear this, supposing that 
the lady might be intimately acquainted with the firm of 
Short and Codlin ; but what followed tended to reassure 
her. 

" And very sorry I was," said the lady of the caravan, 
" to see you in company with a Punch — a low practical, 
wulgar wretch, that people should scorn to look at." 

"I was not there by choice," rejoined the child; "we 
didn't know our way, and the two men were very kind to us, 
and let us travel with them. Do you — do you know them, 
ma am i 

" Know 'em, child ! " cried the lady of the caravan in a 
sort of shriek. " Know them ! But you're young and inex- 
perienced, and that's your excuse for asking sich a question. 
Do I look as if I know'd them ? Does this caravan look as if 
it know'd 'em ? " 

" No, ma'am, no," said the child, fearing that she had 
committed some grievous fault, " I beg your pardon." 

It was granted immediately, and the child then explained 
that they had left the races on the first day, and were travel- 
ling to the next town, and ventured to inquire how far it 
was. The stout lady's reply was rather discouraging, and 
Nell could scarcely repress a tear at hearing that it was 
eight miles off. Her grandfather made no complaint, and 

59 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the two were about to pass on, when the lady of the caravan 
called to the child to return. Beckoning to her to ascend 
the steps, she asked, — "Are you hungry?" 

" Not very, but we are tired, and it's — it is a long way." 

" Well, hungry or not, you had better have some tea," 
rejoined her new acquaintance. " I suppose you're agree- 
able to that, old gentleman ? " 

The grandfather humbly pulled off his hat, and thanked 
her, and sitting down, they made a hearty meal, enjoying it 
to the utmost. 

While they were thus engaged, the lady of the caravan 
held a short conversation with her driver, after which she 
informed Nell that she and her grandfather were to go for- 
ward in the caravan with her, for which kindness Nell 
thanked the lady with unaffected earnestness. She helped 
with great alacrity to put away the tea-things, and mounted 
into the vehicle, followed by her delighted grandfather. 
Their patroness then shut the door, and away they went, 
with a great noise of flapping, and creaking, and straining, 
and the bright brass knocker, knocking one perpetual 
double knock of its own accord as they jolted heavily 
along. 

When they had travelled slowly forward for some short 
distance, Nell looked around the caravan, and observed it 
more closely. One half of it was carpeted, with a sleeping 
place, after the fashion of a berth on board ship, partitioned 
off at the farther end, which was shaded with fair, white cur- 
tains, and looked comfortable enough, — though by what 
kind of gymnastic exercise the lady of the caravan ever con- 
trived to get into it, — was an unfathomable mystery. The 
other half served for a kitchen, and was fitted up with a 
stove, whose small chimney passed through the roof. It 
held, also, a closet or larder, and the necessary cooking 

60 



LITTLE NELL 

utensils, which latter necessaries hung upon the walls, which 
in the other portion of the establishment were decorated 
with a number of well-thumbed musical instruments. 

Presently the old man fell asleep, and the lady of the cara- 
van invited Nell to come and sit beside her. 

"Well, child," she said, "how do you like this way of 
travelling ? " 

Nell replied that she thought that it was very pleasant 
indeed. Instead of speaking again, the lady of the caravan 
sat looking at the child for a long time in silence, then get- 
ting up, brought out a roll of canvas about a yard in width, 
which she laid upon the floor, and spread open with her foot 
until it nearly reached from one end of the caravan to the 
other. 

" There, child," she said, "read that." 

Nell walked down it, and read aloud, in enormous black 
letters, the inscription, "JARLEY'S WAX-WORK." 

" Read it again," said the lady complacently. 

"Jarley's Wax-Work," repeated Nell. 

" That's me," said the lady. " I am Mrs. Jarley." 

The lady of the caravan then unfolded another scroll, 
whereon was the inscription, " One hundred figures the full 
size of life," then several smaller ones with such inscriptions 
as, "The genuine and only Jarley," "Jarley is the delight 
of the nobility and gentry," " The royal family are the pa- 
trons of Jarley." When she had exhibited these to the as- 
tonished child, she brought forth hand-bills, some of which 
were couched in the form of parodies on popular melodies, 
as, " Believe me, if all Jarley's Wax-Work so rare," " I saw 
thy show in youthful prime," " Over the water to Jarley." 
While others were composed with a view to the lighter and 
more facetious spirits, as a parody on the favorite air of " If 
I had a donkey," beginning : 

6i 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

'* If I know'd a donkey what wouldn't go 
To see MRS. JARLEY'S wax-work show, 
Do you think I'd acknowledge him ? 
Oh, no, no ! 

Then run to Jarley's." 

besides other compositions in prose, all having the same 
moral — namely, that the reader must make haste to Jarley's, 
and that children and servants were admitted at half price, 
Mrs. Jarley then rolled these testimonials up, and having 
put them carefully away, sat down and looked at the child 
in triumph. 

" I never saw any wax-work, ma'am," said Nell. " Is it 
funnier than Punch ?" 

*' Funnier ! " said Mrs. Jarley, in a shrill voice. " It is 
not funny at all." 

" Oh ! '' said Nell, with all possible humility. 

" It isn't funny at all," repeated Mrs. Jarley. '* It's calm 
and classical. No low beatings and knockings about, no 
jokings and squeakings, like your precious Punches, but 
always the same, with a constantly unchanging air of cold- 
ness and gentility ; and so life-like, that if wax-work only 
spoke and walked about, you'd hardly know the difference." 

"Is it here, ma'am?" asked Nell, whose curiosity was 
awakened by this description. 

** Is what here, child ? " 

"The wax-work, ma'am." 

"Why, bless you, child, what are you thinking of? How 
could such a collection be here ? It's gone on in the other 
wans to the room where it'll be exhibited the day after to- 
morrow. You're going to the same town, and you'll see it, I 
dare say." 

'T shall not be in the town, I think, ma'am," said the 
child. 

62 



LITTLE NELL 

This answer appeared to greatly astonish Mrs. Jarley, who 
asked so many questions that Nell was led to tell her some 
of the details concerning their poverty and wanderings, after 
which the lady of the caravan relapsed into a thoughtful 
silence. At length she shook off her fit of meditation, and 
held a long conversation with the driver, which conference 
being concluded, she beckoned Nell to approach. 

"And the old gentleman, too," said Mrs. Jarley. "I 
want to have a word with him. Do you want a good situa- 
tion for your granddaughter, master? If you do, I can put 
her in the way of getting one. What do you say ? " 

*' I can't leave her, ma'am," answered the old man. 
"What would become of me without her ?" 

*' I should have thought you were old enough to take care 
of yourself, if you ever will be," retorted Mrs. Jarley sharply. 

" But he never will be," whispered the child. " Pray do 
not speak harshly to him. We are very thankful to you," 
she added aloud. " But neither of us could part from the 
other, if all the wealth of the world were halved between us." 

Mrs. Jarley was a little disconcerted by this reception of her 
proposal, but presently she addressed the grandfather again : 

"If you're really disposed to employ yourself," she said, 
"you could help to dust the figures, and take the checks, 
and so forth. What I want your granddaughter for is to 
point 'em out to the company. It's not a common offer, 
bear in mind," said the lady. " It's Jarley's wax-work, re- 
member. The duties very light and genteel, the company 
particularly select. There is none of your open-air wag- 
rancy at Jarley's, recollect ; there is no tarpaulin and saw- 
dust at Jarley's, remember. Every expectation held out in 
the hand-bills is realized to the utmost, and the whole forms 
an effect of imposing brilliancy hitherto unrivalled in this 
kingdom. Remember that the price of admission is only 

63 



TEN GIRLS fro7n DICKENS 

sixpence, and that this is an opportunity which may never 
occur again ! " 

Descendinor from the subHme to the details of common 
life, when she had reached this point, Mrs. Jarley remarked 
that she could pledge herself to no specific salary until she 
had tested Nell's ability, but that she could promise both 
o-ood board and lod^inof for the child and her e^randfather. 
Her offer was thankfully accepted. 

" And you'll never be sorry for it," said Mrs. Jarley. " I'm 
pretty sure of that. So, as that's all settled, let us have a 
bit of supper." 

In the mean while the caravan blundered on, and came at 
last upon a town, near midnight. As it was too late to repair 
to the exhibition rooms, they drew up near to another cara- 
van bearing the great name of Jarley, which being empty, 
was assigned to the old man as his sleeping-place. As for 
Nell herself, she was to sleep in Mrs. Jarley's own travelling- 
carriage as a signal mark of that lady's favor. 

On the following morning Nell was put to work at once, 
helping to unpack the chests and arrange the draperies in 
the exhibition rooms. When this was accomplished, the 
stupendous collection of figures was uncovered, standing 
more or less unsteadily upon their legs, and all their counte- 
nances expressing great surprise. All the gentlemen were 
very pigeon-breasted and very blue about the beards, and 
all the ladies were miraculous figures ; and all the ladies and 
all the gentlemen were looking intensely nowhere, and star- 
ing with extraordinary earnestness at nothing. 

When Nell had exhausted her first raptures at this glori- 
ous sight, Mrs. Jarley ordered the room to be cleared of all 
but herself and the child, and was at great pains to instruct 
Nell in her duty. 

"That," said Mrs. Jarley, in her exhibition tones, as Nell 

64 



LITTLE NRLL 

touched a figure, "is an unfortunate maid-of-honor in the 
time of Queen EUzabeth, who died from pricking her finger 
in consequence of working upon a Sunday. Observe the 
blood which is trickUng from lier finger ; also the gold-eyed 
needle of the period, with which she is at work." 

All this Nell repeated twice or thrice, pointing to the fin- 
ger and the needle at the right times, and then passed on to 
the next. 

"That, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Jarley, "is Jas- 
per Packlemerton, who courted and married fourteen wives, 
and destroyed them all by tickling the soles of their feet 
when they were sleeping in the consciousness of innocence 
and virtue. On being brought to the scaffold, and asked 
if he was sorry for what he had done, he replied yes, he was 
sorry for having let em off so easy, and hoped all Christian 
husbands would pardon him the offence. Let this be a 
warning to all young ladies to be particular in the character 
of the gentlemen of their choice. Observe that his fingers 
are curved, as if in the act of tickling, and that his face is 
represented with a wink, as he appeared when committing 
his barbarous murders." 

When Nell knew all about Mr. Packlemerton, and could 
say it without faltering, Mrs. Jarley passed on to the fat 
man, and then to the thin man, the tall man, the short man, 
the old lady who died of dancing at a hundred and thirty- 
two, the wild boy of the woods, the woman who poisoned 
fourteen families with pickled walnuts, and other historical 
characters, and interesting but misguided individuals. So 
well did Nell profit by her instructions, that at the end of a 
couple of hours, she was in full possession of the history of 
the whole establishment, and perfectly competent to the en- 
lightenment of visitors, and Mrs. Jarley was not slow to ex- 
press her admiration at this happy result. 

65 



TEN GIRLS /rom DICKENS 

In the midst of the various devices used later for attract- 
ing visitors to the exhibition, little Nell was not forgotten. 
The cart in which the Brigand usually made his perambula- 
tions, being gayly dressed with flags and streamers, and the 
Brigand placed therein, Nell sat beside him, decorated with 
artificial flowers, and rode slowly through the town every 
morning, dispersing hand-bills from a basket to the sound 
of drum and trumpet. The beauty of the child, coupled 
with her gentle and timid bearing, produced quite a sensa- 
tion in the little country place : the Brigand, became a mere 
secondary consideration, and important only as part of the 
show of which she was the chief attraction. Grown-up folks 
began to be interested in the bright-eyed girl, and some 
score of little boys fell desperately in love, and constantly 
left inclosures of nuts and apples at the wax-work door. 

This desirable impression was not lost on Mrs. Jarley, 
who, lest Nell should become too cheap, sent the Brigand 
out alone again, and kept her in the exhibition room, where 
she described the figures every half-hour, to the great sat- 
isfaction of admiring audiences. 

Although her duties were sufficiently laborious, Nell 
found the lady of the caravan a very kind and considerate 
person indeed. As her popularity procured her various 
little fees from the visitors, on which her patroness never de- 
manded any toll, and as her grandfather too was well-treated 
and useful, Nell had no cause for anxiety until one holiday 
evening, when they went out together for a walk. They 
had been closely confined for some days, and the weather 
being warm, had strolled a long distance, when they were 
caught in a most terrific thunder-shower, from which they 
sought refuge in a roadside tavern, where some men sat 
playing cards with a pile of silver money between them. 
When the old man's eye lighted upon them, the child saw 

66 



LITTLE NELL 

with alarm that his whole appearance underwent a complete 
change. His face was flushed and eager, his breath came 
short and quick, and the hand he laid upon her arm trem- 
bled so violently, that she shook beneath its grasp. To his 
frenzied appeal for money, Nell repeated a firm refusal, but 
he was insistent. 

" Give me the money," he exclaimed — I must have it. 
There there— that's my dear Nell. I'll right thee one day, 
child, never fear !" 

She took from her pocket a little purse. He seized it, 
and hastened to the other side of the screen where the two 
men were playing. Almost immediately they invited him 
to join their game, whereupon, throwing Nell's purse down 
upon the table, he gathered up the cards as a miser would 
clutch at gold. The child sat by and watched the game in 
a perfect agony of fear, regardless of the run of luck ; and 
mindful only of the desperate passion which had its hold 
upon her grandfather, losses and gains were to her alike. 

The storm had raged for full three hours, when at length 
the play came to an end. Nell's little purse lay empty, and 
still the old man sat poring over the cards until the child 
laid her arm upon his shoulder, telling him that it was near 
midnight. 

Now Nell had still the piece of gold, and considering the 
lateness of the hour, and into what a state of consternation 
they would throw Mrs. Jarley by knocking her up at that 
hour, proposed to her grandfather that they stay where they 
were for the night. As they would leave very early in the 
"morning, the child was anxious to pay for their entertain- 
ment before they retired, but as she felt the necessity of 
, concealing her little hoard from her grandfather, and had to 
change the piece of gold, she took it out secretly, and fol- 
lowing the landlord into the bar, tendered it to him there. 

67 



TEN GIRLS fro7n DICKENS 

She was returning, when she fancied she saw a figure glid- 
ing in at the door. There was only a dark passage between 
this door and the place where she had changed the money, 
and being very certain that no person had passed in or out 
while she stood there, she felt that she had been watched. 
She was still thinking of this, when a girl came to light her 
to bed. 

It was a great gloomy house, which the flaring candles 
seemed to make yet more gloomy, and the child did not feel 
comfortable when she was left alone. She could not help 
thinking of the figure stealing through the passage down- 
stairs. At last a broken and fitful sleep stole upon her. A 
deeper slumber followed this — and then — What ! That 
figure in the room ! A figure was there, it crouched and 
slunk along, stealing round the bed. She had no voice to 
cry for help, no power to move, — on it came — silently and 
stealthily to the bed's head. There it remained, motionless 
as she. At length, it busied its hands in something, and 
she heard the chink of money. Then it dropped upon its 
hands and knees, and crawled away. It reached the door at 
last, the steps creaked beneath its noiseless tread, and it 
was gone. 

The first impulse of the child was not to be alone — and 
with no consciousness of having moved, she gained the 
door. Once in her grandfather's room, she would be safe. 
An idea flashed suddenly upon her — what if the figure 
should enter there, and have a design upon the old man's 
life ? She turned faint and sick. She saw it creeping in 
front of her. It went in. Not knowing what she meant to 
do, but meaning to preserve him, or be killed herself, she 
staggered forward and looked in. 

What sight was that which met her view ? 

The bed was smooth and empty. And at a table sat the 

68 



LITTLE NELL 

old man himself — the only living creature there — his white 
face pinched and sharpened by the greediness which made 
his eyes unnaturally bright — counting the money of which 
his hands had robbed her. 

With steps more unsteady than those with which she had 
approached the room, the child groped her way back into 
her own chamber. The terror which she had lately felt was 
nothing compared with that which now oppressed her. The 
gi-ey-haired old man, gliding like a ghost into her room, and 
acting the thief, while he supposed her fast asleep, then 
bearing off his prize, and hanging over it with the ghastly 
exultation she had witnessed, was far more dreadful than 
anything her wildest fancy could have suggested. The feel- 
ing which beset her was one of uncertain horror. She had 
no fear of the dear old grandfather, but the man she had 
seen that night seemed like another creature in his shape. 
She could scarcely connect her own affectionate companion, 
save by his loss, with this old man, so like yet so unlike 
him. She had wept to see him dull and quiet. How much 
greater cause she had for weeping now ! 

She sat thinking of these things, until she felt it would be 
a relief to hear his voice, or if he were asleep, even to see 
him, and so she stole down the passage again. Looking 
into the room, she saw him lying calmly on his bed, fast 
asleep. She had no fear as she looked upon his slumbering 
features, but she had a deep and weighty sorrow, and it 
found its relief in tears. 

" God bless him," said the child, softly kissing his placid 
cheek. " I see too well now that they would indeed part 
us if they found us out, and shut him up from the light of 
the sun and sky. He has only me. God bless us both ! " 

Lighting her candle, she retreated as silently as she had 
come, and gaining her own room once more, sat up during 

69 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the remainder of that long, long miserable night. Upon 
searching her pocket on the following morning she found her 
money was all gone — not a sixpence remained. 

" Grandfather," she said in a tremulous voice, after they 
had walked about a mile on their road in silence, " Do you 
think they are honest people at the house yonder ? I ask 
because I lost some money last night — out of my bedroom, 
I am sure. Unless it was taken by some one in jest — only 
in jest, dear grandfather, which would make me laugh 
heartily if I could but know it — " 

" Who would take money in jest ? " returned the old man 
in a hurried manner. " Those who take money, take it to 
keep. Don't talk of jest." 

'* Then it was stolen out of my room, dear," said the child, 
whose last hope was destroyed by the manner of this reply. 

" But is there no more, Nell," said the old man — " no more 
anywhere ? Was it all taken — was there nothing left ? " 

" Nothing," replied the child. 

" We must get more," said the old man, "we must earn 
it, Nell — hoard it up, scrape it together, come by it somehow. 
Never mind this loss. Tell nobody of it, and perhaps we 
may regain it. Don't ask how — we may regain it, and a 
great deal more, but tell nobody, or trouble may come of it. 
And so they took it out of thy room, when thou wert 
asleep !" He added in a compassionate tone, very different 
from the secret, cunning way in which he had spoken until 
now. " Poor Nell, poor little Nell ! " 

The child hung down her head and wept. It was not the 
lightest part of her sorrow that this was done for her. 

" Let me persuade you, dear grandfather," she said 
earnestly, " Oh, do let me persuade you to think no more of 
gains or losses, and to try no fortune but the fortune we pur- 
sue together. Only remember what we have been since 



LITTLE NELL 

that bright morning when we turned our backs upon that 
unhappy house for the last time," continued Nell. " Think 
what beautiful things we have seen, and how contented we 
have felt, and why was this blessed change ? " 

He stopped her with a motion of his hand, and bade her 
talk to him no more just then, for he was busy. After a 
time he kissed her cheek, and walked on, looking as if he 
were painfully trying to collect his thoughts. Once she saw 
tears in his eyes. When they had gone on thus for some 
time, he took her hand in his, as he was accustomed to do, 
with nothing of the violence or animation of his late manner ; 
and by degrees settled down into his usual quiet way, and 
suffered her to lead him where she would. 

As Nell had anticipated, they found Mrs. Jarley was not 
yet out of bed, and that although she had suffered some 
uneasiness on their account, she had felt sure that being 
overtaken by the storm, they had sought the nearest shelter 
for the night. And as they sat down to breakfast, she 
requested Nell to go that morning to Miss Monflather's 
Boarding and Day School to present its principal with a 
parcel of new bills, as her establishment had yet sent but 
half-a-dozen representatives to see the stupendous wax- 
work collection. Nell's expedition met with no success, to 
Mrs. Jarley's great indignation, and Nell would have been 
disappointed herself at its failure, had she not had anxieties 
of a deeper kind to occupy her thoughts. 

That evening, as she had dreaded, her grandfather stole 
away, and did not come back until the night was far spent. 
Worn out as she was, she sat up alone until he returned — 
penniless, broken spirited, and wretched, but still hotly bent 
upon his infatuation. 

" Give me money," he said wildly, " I must have money, 
Nell. It shall be paid thee back with gallant interest one 

71 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

day, but all the money which comes into thy hands must be 
mine — not for myself, but to use for thee. Remember, Nell, 
to use for thee ! " 

What could the child do, with the knowledge she had, 
but give him every penny that came into her hands, lest he 
should be tempted on to rob their benefactress? If she 
told the truth (so thought the child) he would be treated as 
a madman ; if she did not supply him with money, he would 
supply himself ; supplying him, she fed the fire that burned 
him, and put him perhaps beyond recovery. Distracted by 
these thoughts, tortured by a crowd of apprehensions when- 
ever he was absent, and dreading alike his stay and his re- 
turn, the color forsook her cheek, her eyes grew dim, and her 
heart was oppressed and heavy. 

One evening, wandering alone not far from home, the 
child came suddenly upon a gypsy camp, and looking at the 
group of men around the fire saw to her horror and dismay 
that one was her grandfather. The others she recognized 
as the card-players at the public-house on the eventful night 
of the storm. Drawing near, where she could listen unseen, 
she heard their conversation ; heard them obtain her grand- 
father's promise to rob Mrs. Jarley of the tin box in which 
she kept her savings — and to play a game of cards with 
them, with its contents for stakes. 

" God be merciful to us ! " cried the child, "and help us 
in this trying hour ! What shall I do to save him ? " 

The remainder of the conversation related merely to the 
execution of their project, after which the old man shook 
hands with his tempters, and withdrew. Then Nell crept 
away, fled home as quickly as she could, and threw her- 
self upon her bed, distracted. The first idea that flashed 
upon her mind was instant flight. Then she remembered 

that the crime was not to be committed until next night, and 

72 



LITTLE NELL 

there was time for resolving what to do. Then she was 
distracted with a horrible fear that he might be committing 
it at that moment. She stole to the room where the money 
was, and looked in. God be praised ! he was not there, 
and Mrs. Jarley was sleeping soundly. She went back to 
her own room, and tried to prepare herself for bed, but who 
could sleep — sleep ! distracted by such terrors ? They 
came upon her more and more strongly yet. Half-undressed, 
and with her hair in wild disorder, she flew to the old man's 
bedside, and roused him from his sleep. 

" What's this ? " he cried, starting up in bed, and fixing 
his eyes upon her spectral face. 

" I have had a dreadful dream," said the child. " A 
dreadful, horrible dream ! I have had it once before. It is 
a dream of gray-haired men like you, in darkened rooms by 
night, robbing the sleepers of their gold. Up, up!" The 
old man shook in every joint, and folded his hands like one 
who prays. 

" Not to me," said the child, " Not to me — to heaven, to 
save us from such deeds ! This dream is too real. I cannot 
sleep — I cannot stay here — I cannot leave you alone under 
the roof where such dreams come. We must fly. There is 
no time to lose ; " said the child. " Up ! and away with 
me!" 

" To-night?" murmured the old man. 

"Yes, to-night," replied the child. "To-morrow night 
will be too late. Nothing but flight can save us. Up !" 

The old man arose, his forehead bedewed with the cold 
sweat of fear, and bending before the child, as if she had 
been an angel messenger sent to lead him where she would, 
made ready to follow her. She took him by the hand and 
led him on. She took him to her own chamber, and, still 
holding him by the hand, as if she feared to lose him for an 

n 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

instant, gathered together the little stock she had, and hung 
her basket on her arm. The old man took his wallet from 
her hands, his staff too, and then she led him forth. 

Through the streets their trembling feet passed quickly, 
and at last the child looked back upon the sleeping town, 
on the far-off river, on the distant hills ; and as she did so, 
she clasped the hand she held less firmly, and bursting into 
tears, fell upon the old man's neck. Her momentary weak- 
ness passed, she again summoned the resolution to keep 
steadily in view the one idea that they were flying from dis- 
grace and crime, and that her grandfather's preservation 
depended solely on her firmness. While he, subdued and 
abashed, seemed to shrink and cower down before her, the 
child herself was sensible of a new feeling within her which 
elevated her nature, and inspired her with an energy and 
confidence she had never known. " I have saved him," she 
thought, " in all distresses and dangers I will remember 
that." 

At any other time the recollection of having deserted the 
friend who had shown them so much homely kindness, with- 
out a word of justification, would have filled her with sorrow 
and regret. But now, all other considerations were lost in 
the new uncertainties and anxieties, and in the desperation 
of their condition. 

In the pale moonlight, which lent a wanness of its own to 
the delicate face where thoughtful care already mingled with 
a winning grace and loveliness of youth, the too bright eye, 
the spiritual head, the lips that pressed each other with such 
high resolve and courage of the heart, the slight figure, firm 
in its bearing, and yet so very weak, told their silent tale ; 
but told it only to the wind that rustled by. The night 
crept on apace, the moon went down and when the sun had 
climbed into the sky, and there was warmth in its cheerful 

74 



LITTLE NELL 

beams, they laid them down to sleep upon a bank hard by 
some water. 

But Nell retained her grasp upon the old man's arm, and 
long after he was slumbering soundly, watched him with un- 
tiring eyes. Fatigue stole over her at last ; her grasp 
relaxed, and they slept side by side. A confusion of voices, 
mingling with her dreams, awoke her, and she discovered a 
man of rough appearance standing over her, while his com- 
panions were looking on from a canal-boat which had come 
close to the bank while she was sleeping. The man spoke 
to Nell, asking what was the matter, and where she and her 
grandfather were going. Nell faltered, pointing at hazard 
toward the west — and upon the man inquiring if she meant 
a certain town which he named, Nell, to avoid more question- 
ing, said " Yes, that was the place." After asking some 
other questions, he mounted one of the horses towing the 
boat, which at once went on. Presently it stopped again, 
and the man beckoned to Nell : " You may go with us if 
you like," he said. " We're going to the same place." 

The child hesitated for one moment. Thinking that the 
men whom she had seen with her grandfather might perhaps 
in their eagerness for the booty, follow them, and regain 
their influence over him, and that if they went on the canal- 
boat all traces of them must be surely lost — accepted the offer. 
Before she had any more time for consideration, she and her 
grandfather were on board, gliding smoothly down the canal, 
through the bright water. 

They did not reach their destination until the following 
morning, and Nell was glad indeed when the trip was ended, 
for the noisy rugged fellows on the boat were rough enough 
to make her heart palpitate for fear, but though they quar- 
relled among themselves, they were civil enough to their two 
passengers ; and at length the boat floated into its destina- 

75 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

tion. The men were occupied directly, and the child and 
her grandfather, after waiting in vain to thank them, or ask 
whither they should go, passed out into a crowded noisy 
street of a manufacturing village, and stood, in the pouring 
rain, distressed and confused. Evening came on. They 
were still wandering up and down, bewildered by the hurry 
they beheld, but had no part in. Shivering with the cold and 
damp, ill in body, and sick to death at heart, the child needed 
her utmost resolution to creep along. No prospect of relief 
appearing, they retraced their steps to the wharf, hoping to 
be allowed to sleep on board the boat that night. But here 
again they were disappointed, for the gate was closed. 

" Why did you bring me here ? " asked the old man 
fiercely, " I cannot bear these close eternal streets. We 
came from a quiet part. Why did you force me to leave 
it?" 

" Because I must have that dream I told you of, no 
more," said the child, " and we must live among poor 
people or it will come again. Dear grandfather, you are 
old and weak, I know ; but look at me. I never will com- 
plain if you will not, but I have some suffering indeed." 

" Ah ! Poor, houseless, wandering, motherless child ! " 
cried the old man, gazing as if for the first time upon her 
anxious face, her travel-stained dress, and bruised and swollen 
feet. " Has all my agony of care brought her to this at 
last ? Was I a happy man once, and have I lost happiness 
and all I had, for this ? " 

Wandering on, they took shelter in an old doorway from 
which the figure of a man came forth, who, touched with 
the misery of their situation, and with Nell's drenched con- 
dition, offered them such lodging as he had at his command, 
in the great foundry where he was employed. He led them 
through the bewildering sights and deafening sounds of the 

76 



LITTLE NELL 

huge building, to his furnace, and there spread Nell's little 
cloak upon a heap of ashes, and showing her where to hang 
her outer clothes to dry, signed to her and the old man to lie 
down and sleep. The warmth of her bed, combined with 
her great fatigue, caused the tumult of the place to lull the 
child to sleep, and the old man was stretched beside her, 
as she lay and dreamed. On the following morning her 
friend shared his breakfast with the child and her grand- 
father, and parting with them left in Nell's hand two bat- 
tered smoke-encrusted penny pieces. Who knows but they 
shone as brightly in the eyes of angels as golden gifts 
that have been chronicled on tombs ? 

With an intense longing for pure air and open country, 
they toiled slowly on, the child walking with extreme diffi- 
culty, for the pains that racked her joints were of no com- 
mon severity, and every exertion increased them. But they 
wrung from her no complaint, as the two proceeded slowly 
on, clearing the town in course of time. They slept that 
night with nothing between them and the sky, amid the 
horrors of a manufacturing suburb, and who shall tell the 
terrors of that night to the young wandering child. 

And yet she had no fear for herself, for she was past it, 
but put up a prayer for the old man. A penny loaf was all 
that they had had that day. It was very little, but even 
hunger was forgotten in the strange tranquillity that crept 
over her senses. So very weak and spent she felt as she lay 
down, so very calm and unresisting, that she had no thought 
of any wants of her own, but prayed that God would raise 
up some friend for him. Morning came — much weaker, yet 
the child made no complaint — she felt a hopelessness of 
their ever being extricated together from that forlorn place ; 
a dull conviction that she was very ill, perhaps dying ; 
but no fear or anxiety. Objects appeared more dim, the 

77 



TEN GIRLS /ropt DICKENS 

noise less, the path more uneven, for sometimes she stum- 
bled, and became roused, as it were, in the effort to prevent 
herself from falling. Poor child ! The cause was in her 
tottering feet. 

They were dragging themselves along toward evening and 
the child felt that the time was close at hand when she 
could bear no more. Before them she saw a traveller read- 
ing from a book which he carried. 

It was not an easy matter to come up with him, and beseech 
his aid, for he walked fast. At length he stopped, to look 
more attentively at some passage in his book. Animated 
with a ray of hope, the child shot on before her grandfather, 
and going close to the stranger without rousing him by the 
sound of her footsteps, began faintly to implore his help. 

He turned his head. Nell clapped her hands together 
uttered a wild shriek, and fell senseless at his feet. It was 
no other than the poor schoolmaster. Scarcely less moved 
and surprised than the child herself, he stood for a moment, 
silent and confounded by the unexpected apparition, with- 
out even presence of mind to raise her from the ground. 
But, quickly recovering his self-possession, and dropping on 
one knee beside her, he endeavored to restore her to her- 
self. 

" She is quite exhausted," he said, glancing upward into 
the old man's face. ** You have taxed her powers too far, 
friend." 

" She is perishing of want," rejoined the old man. " I 
never thought how weak and ill she was, till now." 

Casting a look upon him, half-reproachful and half-com- 
passionate, the schoolmaster took the child in his arms, and 
bore her away at his utmost speed to a small inn within 
sight. 

The landlady came running In, with hot brandy and wa- 

78 



LITTLE NELL 

ter, with which and other restoratives, the child was so far 
recovered as to be able to thank them in a faint voice. 
Without suffering her to speak another word, the woman 
carried her off to bed, and after having been made warm and 
comfortable, she had a visit from the doctor himself, who 
ordered rest and nourishment. As Nell evinced extraor- 
dinary uneasiness on being apart from her grandfather, he 
took his supper with her. Finding her still restless on this 
head, they made him up a bed in an inner room, to which he 
presently retired. The key of this chamber happening to be 
on that side of the door which was in Nell's room ; she 
turned it on him, when the landlady had withdrawn, and 
crept to bed again with a thankful heart. 

In the morning the child was better, but so weak that she 
would at least require a day's rest and careful nursing be- 
fore she could proceed upon her journey. The school- 
master decided to remain also, and that evening visited 
Nell in her room. His frank kindness, and the affectionate 
earnestness of his speech and manner, gave the child a con- 
fidence in him. She told him all — that they had no friend 
or relative — and that she sought a home in some remote 
place, where the temptation before which her grandfather 
had fallen would never enter, and her late sorrows and dis- 
tresses could have no place. 

The schoolmaster heard her with astonishment, and with 
admiration for the heroism and patience of one so young. 
He then told her that he had been appointed clerk and 
schoolmaster to a village a long way off, at five-and-thirty 
pounds a year, and that he was on his way there now. He 
concluded .by saying that she and her grandfather must 
accompany him, and that he would endeavor to find them 
some occupation by which they could subsist. 

Accordingly next evening they travelled on, with Nell com- 

79 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

fortably bestowed in a stage-wagon among the softer pack- 
ages, her grandfather and the schoolmaster walking on beside 
the driver, and the landlady and all the good folks of the inn 
screaming out their good wishes and farewells. 

It was a fine clear autumn morning, when they came upon 
the village of their destination, and every bit of scenery, 
and stick and stone looked beautiful to the child who had 
passed through such scenes of poverty and horror. Leaving 
Nell and her grandfather upon the church porch, the school- 
master hurried off to present a letter, and to make inquiries 
concerning his new position. After a long time he ap- 
peared, jingling a bundle of rusty keys, and quite breathless 
with pleasure and haste. As a result of his exertions on 
their behalf, Nell and her grandfather were to occupy a 
small house next to the one apportioned to him. Having 
disburdened himself of this great surprise, the schoolmaster 
then told Nell that the house which was henceforth to be hers, 
had been occupied by an old person who kept the keys of 
the church, opened and closed it for the services, and showed 
it to strangers ; that she had died not many weeks ago, and 
nobody having yet been found to fill the office, he had made 
bold to ask for it for her and her grandfather. As a result 
of his testimony to their ability and honesty, they were 
already appointed to the vacant post. 

" There's a small allowance of money," said the school- 
master. ** It is not much, but enough to live upon in this 
retired spot. By clubbing our funds together, we shall do 
bravely ; no fear of that." 

" Heaven bless and prosper you ! " sobbed the child. 

'* Amen, my dear," returned her friend cheerfully, " and 
all of us, as it will, and has, in leading us through sorrow 
and trouble, to this tranquil life. But we must look at my 
house now. Come ! " 



LITTLE NELL 

To make their dwellings habitable, and as full of comfort 
as they could, was now their pleasant care, and in a short 
time each had a cheerful fire crackling on the hearth. Nell, 
busily plying her needle, repaired the tattered window- 
hangings, and made them whole and decent. The school- 
master swept the ground before the door, trimmed the long 
grass, trained the ivy and creeping plants, and gave to the 
outer walls a cheery air of home. The old man lent his 
aid to both, went here and there on little patient services and 
was happy. Neighbors too, proffered their help, or sent their 
children with such small presents or loans as the strangers 
needed most. It was a busy day, and night came on all too 
soon. 

They took their supper together, and when they had fin- 
ished it, drew round the fire and discussed their future plans. 
Before they separated, the schoolmaster read some prayers 
aloud ; and then, full of gratitude and happiness, they parted 
for the night. 

When every sound was hushed, and her grandfather 
sleeping, the child lingered before the dying embers, and 
thought of her past fortunes as if they had been a dream, 
and the deep and thoughtful feelings which absorbed her, 
gave her no sensation of terror or alarm. A change had 
been gradually stealing over her, in the time of her loneli- 
ness and sorrow. With failing strength and heightened 
resolution, there had sprung up a purified and altered mind ; 
there had grown in her bosom those blessed hopes and 
thoughts which are the portion of few but the weak and 
drooping. There were none to see the frail figure as it 
glided from the fire and leaned pensively at the casement ; 
none but the stars to look into the upturned face and read 
its history. 

It was long before the child closed the window, and ap- 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

proached her bed — but when she did — it was to sink into a 
sleep filled with sweet and happy dreams. 

With the morning came the renewal of yesterday's labors, 
the revival of its pleasant thoughts, the restoration of its 
energies, cheerfulness and hope. They worked gayly until 
noon, and then visited the clergyman, who received them 
kindly, and at once showed an interest in Nell. The 
schoolmaster had already told her story. They had no 
other friends or home to leave, he said, and had come to 
share his fortunes. He loved the child as though she were 
his own. 

" Well, well," said the clergyman. " Let it be as you desire, 
she is very young." 

" Old in adversity and trial, sir," replied the school- 
master. 

" God help her. Let her rest and forget them," said the 
old gentleman. " But an old church is a gloomy place for 
one so young as you, my child." 

" Oh no, sir," returned Nell, " I have no such thoughts, 
indeed." 

" I would rather see her dancing on the green at night," 
said the old gentleman, laying his hand upon her head, " than 
have her sitting in the shadow of our mouldering arches. 
You must look to this, and see that her heart does not grow 
heavy among the solemn ruins." 

After more kind words, they withdrew, and from that 
time Nell's heart was filled with a serene and peaceful joy, 
and she occupied herself with such light tasks as were hers 
to accomplish, and the peace of the simple village moved 
her deeply, while more and more she grew to love the old 
and silent chapel. 

She sat down one day in this old and silent place, among 
the stark figures on the tombs and gazing round with a feel- 

82 



LITTLE NELL 

ing of awe tempered with calm delight, felt that now she 
was happy and at rest. She took a Bible and read ; then 
laying it down, thought of the summer days and bright 
springtime that would come — of the rays of sun that would 
fall in aslant upon the sleeping forms — of the song of birds, 
and growth of buds and blossoms out of doors — What if the 
spot awakened thoughts of death ? Die who would, these 
sights and sounds would still go on, as happily as ever. It 
would be no pain to sleep amidst them. 

She left the chapel, and climbed to its turret-top. Oh ! 
the glory of the sudden burst of light ; the freshness of the 
fields and woods, meeting the bright blue sky ; everything 
so beautiful and happy ! It was like passing from death to 
life ; it was drawing nearer heaven. And yet the dim old 
chapel had for her a depth of fascination which the outer 
world did not possess. Again that day, twice, she stole back 
to the chapel, and read from the same book, or indulged in 
the same quiet train of thought. Even when night fell, she 
sat like one rooted to the spot until they found her there 
and took her home. She looked pale but very happy, but 
as the schoolmaster stooped down to kiss her cheek, he 
thought he felt a tear upon his face. 

From a village bachelor, who took great interest in the 
beautiful child, Nell soon learned the histories connected 
with every tomb and gravestone, with every gallery, wall, 
and crypt in the dim old church. These she treasured in 
her mind, dwelling on them often in her thoughts and re- 
peating them to those sightseers who cared to hear them. 
Her duties were not arduous, but she did not regain her 
strength, and in her grandfather's mind sprang up a solici- 
tude about her which never left him. From the time of his 
awakening to her weakness, never did he have any care for 
himself, any thought of his own comfort, which could dis- 

83 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

tract his attention from the gentle object of his love and care. 
He would follow her up and down, waiting till she should 
tire, and lean upon his arm — he would sit opposite to her, 
content to watch and look, until she raised her head and 
"smiled upon him as of old — he would discharge by stealth 
those household duties which tasked her powers too heavily 
— he would rise in the nio^ht to listen to her breathing- in her 
sleep. He who knows all, can only know what hopes and 
fears and thoughts of deep affection were in that one dis- 
ordered brain, and what a change had fallen upon the poor 
old man. 

Weeks crept on — sometimes the child, exhausted, would 
pass whole evenings on a couch beside the fire. At such 
times, the schoolmaster would read aloud to her, and seldom 
an evening passed but the bachelor came in and took his 
turn at reading. During the daytime the child was mostly 
out of doors, and all the strangers who came to see the church, 
praised the child's beauty and sense, and all the neighbors, 
and all the villagers, and the very schoolboys grew to have a 
fondness for poor Nell. 

Meanwhile, in that busy world which Nell and her grand- 
father had left behind them so many months before, there 
had appeared a stranger, who gave up all his time and energy 
to endeavoring to trace the wanderers. He was Nell's 
grandfather's younger brother, who had for many years been 
a traveller in distant lands, with almost no information of 
his brother. His thoughts began to revert constantly to the 
days when they were boys together, and obeying the impulse 
which impelled him, he hastened home, arriving one evening 
at his brother's door, only to find the wanderers gone. 

By dint of ceaseless watchfulness and vigilance, at last he 
gained a clue to their retreat, and lost no time in following 
it up, taking with him Kit Nubbles, the errand-boy at the 

84 



LITTLE NELL 

Shop in old days, who, though now in the employ of kind 
Mr. Garland, was still loyal to the memory of his beloved 
Miss Nelly— and only too grateful to be allowed to go in 
search of her, with the stranger whom she would not recog- 
nize. So together they journeyed to the peaceful village, 
where Nell and her grandfather were hidden. Kit carrying 
with him Nell's bird in his own cage. She would be glad to 
see it, he knew, but alas for Kit— they found sweet Nell in 
the sleep that knows no waking on this our earth. 

There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest. The solemn 
stillness was no marvel now. 

She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free 
from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a 
creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the 
breath of life ; not one who had lived and suffered death. 

Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter 
berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been 
used to favor. "When I die, put near me something that 
has loved the light, and had the sky above it always." Those 
were her words. 

She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was 
dead. Her little bird — a poor slight thing the pressure of a 
finger would have crushed — was stirring nimbly in its cage ; 
and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and mo- 
tionless forever. 

Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, 
and fatigues ? All gone. Sorrow was dead indeed in her,' 
but peace and perfect happiness were born — imaged in her 
tranquil beauty and profound repose. 

And still her former self lay there, unaltered in this 
change. Yes. The old fireside had smiled upon that same 
sweet face ; it had passed, like a dream, through haunts of 
misery and care ; at the door of the poor schoolmaster on 

85 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the summer evening, before the furnace fire upon the cold 
wet night, there had been the same mild lovely look. So 
shall we know the angels in their majesty, after death. 

The old man had the small hand tight folded to his breast 
for warmth. It was the hand she had stretched out to him 
with her last smile — the hand that had led him on through 
all their wanderings. Ever and anon he pressed it to his 
lips ; then hugged it to his breast again, murmuring that it 
was warmer now ; and as he said it, he looked in agony to 
those who stood around, as if imploring them to help her. 

She was dead, and past all help, or need of it. The 
ancient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while 
her own was waning fast — the garden she had tended — the 
eyes she had gladdened — the paths she had trodden, as it 
were, but yesterday — could know her never more. 

She had been dead two days. She died soon after day- 
break. They had read and talked to her in the earlier por- 
tion of the night, but as the hours crept on she sunk to 
sleep. They could tell, by what she faintly uttered in her 
dreams, that they were of her journeyings with the old man ; 
they were of no painful scenes but of people who had helped 
and used them kindly, for she often said, " God bless you ! " 
with great fervor. Waking, she never wandered in her 
mind but once, and that was of beautiful music which she 
said was in the air. God knows. It may have been. 

Opening her eyes at last, from a very quiet sleep, she 
begged that they would kiss her once again. That done, 
she turned to the old man with a lovely smile upon her face 
— such, they said, as they had never seen, and never could 
forget — and clung with both arms about his neck. They 
did not know that she was dead, at first. 

She would like to see poor Kit, she had often said of late. 
She wished there was somebody to take her love to Kit. 

86 



LITTLE NELL 

And even then, she never thought or spoke about him but 
with something of her old clear merry laugh. 

For the rest, she had never murmured or complained, but 
with a quiet mind, and manner quite unaltered — save that 
she every day became more earnest and more grateful to 
them — faded like the light upon a summer's evening. 

They carried her to an old nook, where she had many and 
many a time sat musing, and laid their burden softly on the 
pavement. The light streamed on it through the colored 
window — a window where the boughs of trees were ever 
rustling in the summer, and where the birds sang sweetly 
all day long. With every breath of air that stirred among 
those branches in the sunshine, some trembling changing 
light would fall upon her grave. 

One called to mind how he had seen her sitting on that 
very spot, and how her book had fallen on her lap, and she 
was gazing with a pensive face upon the sky. Another told 
how she had loved to linger in the church when all was 
quiet, and even to climb the tower stair with no more light 
than that of the moon's rays stealing through the loopholes 
in the thick old wall. A whisper went about among the 
oldest that she had seen and talked with angels. Then, 
when the dusk of evening had come on, with tranquil and sub- 
missive hearts they turned away, and left the child with God. 

Oh, it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths 
will teach ; but let no man reject it, for it is a mighty, uni- 
versal Truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and 
young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting 
spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, 
and love, to walk the world, and bless it. Of every tear that 
sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves some good is 
born, some gentler nature comes. In the Destroyer's steps 
there spring up bright creations to defy his power, and his 
dark path becomes a way of light to heaven. 

87 



THE 
INFANT PHENOMENON 



89 




The Infant Phenomenon. 



THE 
INFANT PHENOMENON 



MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES was manager of 
a theatrical company, and also the head of a 
most remarkable family indeed, each member 
of which was gifted with an extraordinary com- 
bination of talent and attractiveness, and most 
remarkable of all the family was the Infant Phenomenon. 

After Nicholas Nickleby, teacher at Dotheboys Hall, 
quitted that wretched institution in disgrace, because he had 
resented injuries inflicted upon the scholars in general, and 
upon the poor half-starved, ill-used drudge, Smike, in partic- 
ular, Smike stole away from the place where he had been 
so cruelly used, to follow his defender, and the two journeyed 
on together towards Portsmouth, resting for the night at a 
roadside inn some miles from their destination. At the inn 
they met Mr. Crummies who, upon discovering them to be 
destitute of money, and desirous of obtaining employment 
as soon as possible, offered them both engagements in his 
company, which offer, after a brief deliberation, Nicholas de- 
cided to accept, until something more to his liking should be 
available. 

Accordingly they journeyed to Portsmouth, together 
with Mr. Crummies and the master Crummleses, and 
accompanied the manager through the town on his way to 
the theatre. 

91 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

They passed a great many bills pasted against the wall, 
and displayed in windows, wherein the names of Mr. Vin- 
cent Crummies, Mrs. Vincent Crummies, Master Crummies, 
Master Peter Crummies, and Miss Crummies, were printed 
in large letters, and everything else in very small letters ; 
and turning at length into an entry in which was a strong 
smell of orange-peel and lamp-oil, with an under-current of 
saw-dust, groping their way through a dark passage, and de- 
scending a step or two, emerged upon the stage of the 
Portsmouth theatre. 

It was not very light, and as Nicholas looked about him, 
ceiling, pit, boxes, gallery, orchestra, fittings, and decorations 
of every kind, — all looked coarse, cold, gloomy and wretched. 

"Is this a theatre?" whispered Smike, in amazement; 
•' I thought it was a blaze of light and finery." 

"Why, so it is," replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised; 
•' But not by day, Smike, — not by day." 

At this moment the manager's voice was heard, intro- 
ducing the new-comers, under the stage names of Johnson 
and Digby, to Mrs. Crummies, a portly lady in a tarnished 
silk cloak, with her bonnet dangling by the strings, and with 
a quantity of hair braided in a large festoon over each 
temple ; who greeted them with great cordiality. 

While they were chatting with her, there suddenly 
bounded on to the stage from some mysterious inlet, a 
little girl in a dirty white frock, with tucks up to the knees, 
short trousers, sandalled shoes, white spencer, pink gauze 
bonnet, green veil and curl papers, who turned a pirouette, 
then looking off in the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded 
forward to within six inches of the footlights, and fell into 
a beautiful attitude of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an 
old pair of buff slippers came in at one powerful slide, and 
chattering his teeth fiercely, brandished a walking-stick. 

92 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

"They arc going through, 'The Indian Savage and the 
Maiden,'" said Mrs. Crummies. 

" Oh ! " said the manager, " the little ballet interlude. 
Very good. Go on. A little this way, if you please, Mr. 
Johnson. That'll do. Now!" 

The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed, 
and the Savage, becoming ferocious, made a slide towards 
the Maiden ; but the Maiden avoided him in six twirls, and 
came down, at the end of the last one, upon the very points 
of her toes. This seemed to make some impression upon 
the Savage, for after a little more ferocity and chasing of 
the Maiden into corners, he began to relent, and stroked 
his face several times with his right thumb and forefingers, 
thereby intimating that he was struck with admiration of 
the Maiden's beauty. Acting upon the impulse of this pas- 
sion, he began to hit himself severe thumps in the chest, 
and to exhibit other indications of being desperately in love, 
which, being rather a prosy proceeding, was very likely the 
cause of the Maiden's falling asleep ; whether it was or no, 
asleep she did fall, sound as a church, on a sloping bank, 
and the Savage, perceiving it, leant his left ear on his left 
hand, and nodded sideways, to intimate to all whom it 
might concern that she zvas asleep, and no shamming. Be- 
ing left to himself, the Savage had a dance all alone. Just 
as he left ofT, the Maiden woke up, rubbed her eyes, got off 
the bank, and had a dance all alone too — such a dance that 
the Savage looked on in ecstacy all the while, and when it 
was done, plucked from a neighboring tree some botanical 
curiosity, resembling a small pickled cabbage, and offered 
it to the Maiden, who at first wouldn't have it, but on the 
Savage shedding tears, relented. Then the Savage jumped 
for joy ; then the Maiden jumped for rapture at the sweet 
smell of the pickled cabbage ; then the Savage and the 

93 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

Maiden danced violently together, and finally the Savage 
dropped down on one knee, and the Maiden stood on one 
leg upon his other knee ; thus concluding the ballet, and 
leaving the spectators in a state of pleasing uncertainty 
whether she would ultimately marry the Savage, or return 
to her friends. 

"Bravo!" cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of 
everything. " Beautiful ! " 

" This, sir," said Mr. Vincent Crummies, bringing the 
Maiden forward, "This is the Infant Phenomenon — Miss 
Ninetta Crummies." 

"Your daughter?" inquired Nicholas. 

" My daughter — my daughter," replied Mr. Crummies ; 
" the idol of every place we go into, sir. We have had com- 
plimentary letters about this girl, sir, from the nobility and 
gentry of almost every town in England." 

" I am not surprised at that," said Nicholas ; "she must be 
quite a natural genius." 

"Quite a — !" Mr. Crummies stopped: language was 
not powerful enough to describe the Infant Phenomenon. 
" I'll tell you what, sir," he said ; "the talent of this child is 
not to be imagined. She must be seen, sir — seen — to be 
ever so faintly appreciated. There ; go to your mother, 
my dear." 

" May I ask how old she is?" inquired Nicholas. 

"You may, sir," replied Mr. Crummies. "She is ten years 
of age, sir." 

"Not more?" 

" Not a day." 

" Dear me," said Nicholas, " it's extraordinary." 

It was ; for the Infant Phenomenon certainly looked older, 
and had moreover, been precisely the same age for certainly 
five years. But she had been kept up late every night, and 

94 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

put upon an unlimited allowance of gin and water from in- 
fancy, to prevent her growing tall, and perhaps this system 
of training had produced in the Infant Phenomenon these 
additional phenomena. 

When this dialogue was concluded, another member of 
the company, Mr. Folair, joined Nicholas, and confided to him 
the contempt of the entire troupe for the Infant Phenomenon. 
"Infant Humbug sir!" he said. "There isn't a female 
child of common sharpness in a charity school that couldn't 
do better than that. She may thank her stars she was born 
a manager's daughter." 

" You seem to take it to heart," observed Nicholas with 
a smile. 

" Yes, by Jove, and well I may," said Mr. Folair test- 
ily ; " isn't it enough to make a man crusty, to see the little 
sprawler put up in the best business every night, and actually 
keeping money out of the house by being forced down the 
people's throats while other people are passed over ? Why, I 
know of fifteen-and-sixpence that came to Southampton last 
month to see me dance the Highland Fling, and what's the 
consequence? I've never been put up at it since — never 
once — while the 'Infant Phenomenon' has been grinning 
through artificial flowers at five people and. a baby in the 
pit, and two boys in the gallery, every night." 

From these bitter remarks, it may be inferred that there 
were two ways of looking at the performances of the Infant 
Phenomenon, but as jealousy is well known to be unjust 
in its criticism, and as the Infant was too highly praised by 
her own band of admirers to be much affected by such re- 
marks, if any of them reached her ears, there is no evidence 
that her joy was diminished by reason of the complaints of 
captious fault-finders. 

At the first evening performance which Nicholas wit- 

95 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

nfessed, he found the various members of the company very 
much changed ; by reason of false hair, false color, false 
calves, false muscles, they had become different beings ; the 
stage also was set in the most elaborate fashion, — in short 
everything was on a scale of the utmost splendor and prep- 
aration. 

Nicholas was standing contemplating the first scene when 
the manager accosted him. 

" Been in front to-night ? " said Mr. Crummies. 

*' No," replied Nicholas, " not ye-t. I am going to see the 
play." 

** We've had a pretty good Let," said Mr. Crummies. 
*' Four front places in the centre, and the whole of the stage 
box." 

*'0h, indeed!" said Nicholas; "a family, I suppose?" 

"Yes," replied Mr. Crummies. "It's an affecting thing. 
There are six children, and they never come unless the Phe- 
nomenon plays." 

It would have been difficult for any party to have visited 
the theatre on a night when the Phenomenon did 7iot play, 
inasmuch as she always sustained one, and not uncommonly 
two or three characters, every night ; but Nicholas, sympa- 
thizing with the feelings of a father, refrained from hinting 
at this trifling circumstance, and Mr. Crummies con- 
tinued : 

" Six, — pa and ma eight, — aunt nine, — governess ten, — 
grandfather and grandmother, twelve. Then, there's the 
footman who stands outside with a bag of oranges and a jug 
of toast-and-water, and sees the play for nothing through 
the little pane of glass in the box-door — it's cheap at a 
guinea ; they gain by taking a box." 

" I wonder you allow so many," observed Nicholas. 

"There's no help for it," replied Mr. Crummies; "it's 

96 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

always expected in the country. If there are six children, 
six people come to hold them in their laps. Ring in the or- 
chestra, Grudden ! " 

It was Mr. Crummies' habit to give a benefit perform- 
ance, commonly called a " bespeak," to any member of 
his company fortunate enough to have either a birthday or 
any other anniversary of sufficient importance to challenge 
attention on the posters, and not long after Nicholas en- 
tered the company, this honor fell to the lot of one of the 
prominent actresses. Miss Snevellicci. Mr. Crummies then 
informed Nicholas that there was some work for him to do 
before that event took place. 

" There's a little canvassing takes place on these occa- 
sions," said Mr. Crummies, '* among the patrons, and the 
fact is, Snevellicci has had so many bespeaks in this place 
that she wants an attraction. She had one when her step- 
mother died, and when her uncle died ; and Mrs. Crummies 
and myself have had them on the anniversary of the Phe- 
nomenon's birthday, and our wedding-day, and occasions of 
that description; so that, in fact, it is hard to get a good one. 
Now, won't you help this poor girl, Mr. Johnson, by calling 
with her to-morrow morning upon one or two of the principal 
people ? " — asked the manager in a persuasive tone, adding, 
" The Infant will accompany her. There will not be the 
smallest impropriety, sir. It would be of material service — 
the gentleman from London — author of the new piece 
— actor in the new piece — first appearance on any boards — 
it would lead to a great bespeak, Mr. Johnson." 

The idea was extremely distasteful to Nicholas, but out 
of kindness to Miss Snevellicci, he reluctantly consented to 
be one of the canvassing party, and accordingly the next 
morning, sallied forth with Miss Snevellicci and the Infant 
Phenomenon. 

97 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

The Phenomenon was rather a troublesome companion, 
for first the right sandal came down, and then the left, and 
these mischances being repaired, one leg of the little white 
trousers was discovered to be longer than the other ; then 
the little green parasol with a broad fringe border and no 
handle, which she bore in her hand, was dropped down an 
iron grating, and only fished up again by dint of much exer- 
tion. However, it was impossible to scold her, as she was 
the manager's daughter, so Nicholas took it all in perfect 
good humor and walked on, with Miss Snevellicci, arm in 
arm, on one side, and the offending infant on the other. 

At the first house they visited, after having a long conver- 
sation concerning the stage, and its relation to life, they at 
length disposed of two boxes, and retired, glad that the con- 
ference was at an end. 

At the next house they were in great glory, for there re- 
sided the six children who had been enraptured with the 
Phenomenon, and who, being called down from the nursery 
to be treated with a private view of that young lady, pro- 
ceeded to poke their fingers into her eyes, and tread upon 
her toes, and show her many other little attentions peculiar to 
their time of life. 

" I shall certainly persuade Mr. Borum to take a private 
box," said the lady of the house, after a most gracious recep- 
tion ; " Augustus, you naughty boy, leave the little girl 
alone." This was addressed to a young gentleman who was 
pinching the Phenomenon from behind, apparently with a 
view to ascertaining whether she was real. 

" I am sure you must be very tired," said the mamma, turn- 
ing to Miss Snevellicci. " I cannot think of allowing you 
to go without first taking a glass of wine. Fie, Charlotte, I 
am ashamed of you : Miss Lane, my dear, pray see to the 
children." 

98 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

This entreaty addressed to the governess, was rendered 
necessary by the behavior of the youngest Miss Borum, 
who, having filched the Phenomenon's little green parasol, 
was now carrying it bodily off, while the distracted Infant 
looked helplessly on, and presently the poor child was really 
in a fair way to be torn limb from limb, for two strong little 
boys, one holding on by each of her hands, were dragging 
her in different directions as a trial of strength. However, 
at this juncture Miss Lane rescued the unhappy victim, who 
was presently taken away, after sustaining no more serious 
damage than a flattening of the pink gauze bonnet, and a 
rather extensive creasing of the white frock and trousers. 
Her companions were thankful not only when the call was 
ended, but when the whole trying morning, with its series of 
visits, was over. 

The benefit performance was a great success, and the new 
actor made such a decided hit on that night and the succeed- 
ing ones, that Mr. Crummies prolonged his stay in Ports- 
mouth for a fortnight beyond the days allotted to it, during 
which time Nicholas attracted so many people to the theatre 
that the manager finally decided upon giving him a benefit, 
calculating that it would be a promising speculation. From 
it Nicholas realized no less a sum than twenty pounds, 
which, added to what he had earned before, made him feel 
quite rich and comfortable. 

At that time he received a letter containing news of his 
sister in London, and a danger that menaced her, which 
made him prepare to leave Portsmouth without an hour's 
delay, if he should be summoned. 

Accordingly he decided to acquaint his manager with the 
possibility of his withdrawal from the company, and hasten- 
ed to the green-room for that purpose, where he found Mrs. 
Crummies in full regal costume, with the Phenomenon as 

99 

LofC.,' 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the Maiden, in her maternal arms. He broke the news to 
the group as gently as possible, but it was received with great 
dismay, and there were both protestations and tears, while the 
Phenomenon, being of an affectionate nature and moreover 
excitable, raised a loud cry, and was soothed with extreme 
difficulty, showing that the child's heart was in the right 
place, notwithstanding the constant strain upon her emotions 
from being so often obliged to simulate unnatural ones. 

Mr. Crummies was no sooner acquainted with the news 
than he evinced many tokens of grief, but finding Nicholas 
determined in his purpose, at once suggested a grand fare- 
well performance, to be advertised as a brilliant display of 
fireworks. 

" That would be rather expensive," suggested Nicholas 
dryly. 

" Eighteen-pence would do it,' said Mr. Crummies ; "You 
on the top of a pair of steps with the Phenomenon in an 
attitude ; " FAREWELL," on a transparency behind ; and 
nine people at the wings with a squib in each hand — all the 
dozen and a half going off at once — it would be very grand 
— awful from the front, quite awful." 

As Nicholas appeared by no means impressed with the 
idea, but laughed heartily at it, Mr. Crummies abandoned 
the project, and gloomily observed that they must make up 
the best bill they could, with combats and hornpipes, and so 
stick to the legitimate drama. 

Next day the posters appeared, and the public were 
informed that Mr. Johnson would have the honor of 
making his last appearance that evening, and that an 
early application for places was requested, in consequence 
of the extraordinary overflow attendant on his performances. 

Upon entering the theatre that night, Nicholas found all 
the company in a state of extreme excitement, and Mr. 

lOO 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

Crummies at once informed him in an agitated voice that 
there was a London manager in one of the boxes. 

" It's the Phenomenon, depend upon it, sir," said Crum- 
mies. " I have not the smallest doubt it's the fame of the 
Phenomenon. She shall have ten pound a week, Johnson ; 
she shall not appear on the London boards for a farthing less. 
They shan't engage her either, unless they engage Mrs. 
Crummies too ; twenty pound a week for the pair, or I'll 
throw in myself and the two boys, and they shall have the 
family for thirty. Thirty pound a week. It's too cheap, 
Johnson. It's dirt cheap." 

Every individual member of the company had in the same 
manner decided that it was his or her attractions that had 
drawn the great man's attention to the Portsmouth theatre, 
and each one secretly decided upon the amount of induce- 
ment necessary to persuade him or her to make a new engage- 
ment. Everybody played to the stranger, everybody sang 
to him, everything was done for his exclusive benefit, and it 
was a cruel blow to the general expectations when he was 
discovered to be asleep, and shortly after that he woke up 
and went away : in consequence of which, the feelings of the 
company, collectively and severally, underwent a severe react- 
ion. Nicholas alone, had no feeling whatsoever on the sub- 
ject, except of amusement. He went through his part as 
briskly as he could, then took Smike's arm and walked home 
to bed. 

With the post next morning came the letter he had been 
expecting, calling him instantly to London, and he at once 
hurried ofif to say farewell to Mr. Crummies. His news was 
received with keen regret by that gentleman, who, always 
mindful of theatrical effects followed Nicholas even to the 
coach itself. As that vehicle stood in the open street, ready 
to start, and Nicholas was about to enter it, he was not a 

lOI 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

little astonished to find himself suddenly clutched in a violent 
embrace which nearly took him off his legs ; while Mr. 
Crummies' voice exclaimed, " It is he — my friend, my 
friend!" 

" Bless my heart," cried Nicholas, struggling in the man- 
ager's arms, " What are you about ?" 

The manager made no reply, but strained him to his breast 
again, exclaiming, " Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted 
boy!" 

In fact Mr. Crummies, who could never lose any oppor- 
tunity for professional display, had turned out for the express 
purpose of taking a public farewell of Nicholas, and to render 
it the more imposing, the elder Master Crummies was going 
through a similar ceremony with Smike ; while Master 
Percy Crummies, with a second-hand cloak worn theatri- 
cally over his left shoulder, stood by, in attitude of an 
attendant officer waiting to convey two victims to the 
scaffold. 

The lookers-on laughed very heartily, and as it was well 
to put a good face upon the matter, Nicholas laughed too, 
when he had succeeded in disengaging himself ; and rescuing 
the astonished Smike, climbed up to the coach-roof after 
him, waving farewell, as they rolled away. 

Some years later, when Nicholas was residing in London, 
under very different circumstances from those of his Ports- 
mouth experience, and with a very different occupation ; 
walking; home one eveninsf, he stood outside a minor theatre 
which he had to pass, and found himself poring over a huge 
play-bill which announced in large letters ; 

Positively the last appear a7ice of Mr. Vincent Crtmimles^ of 
Provincial Celebrity ! ! ! 

" Nonsense ! " said Nicholas, preparing to resume his walk, 
then turning back again, " It can't be," — but adding on sec- 

I02 



THE INFANT PHENOMENON 

ond thoughts — " Surely it must be the same man. There 
can't be two Vincent Crummleses." 

The better to settle the question he referred to the bill 
again, and finding there was a Baron in the first piece, whose 
son was enacted by one Master Crummies, and his nephew 
by one Master Percy Crummies, and that, incidental to the 
piece was a Castanet /^i- seul by the Infant Phenomenon, he 
no longer entertained any doubt ; and presenting himself at 
the stage door at once, sent in a scrap of paper with " Mr. 
Johnson" written thereon in pencil, and was presently con- 
ducted into the presence of his former manager. 

Mr. Crummies was unfeignedly glad to see him, and in the 
course of a long conversation informed Nicholas that the 
next morning he and his were to sail for America, that he 
had made up his mind to settle there permanently, in the 
hope of acquiring some land of his own, which would support 
them in their old age, and which they could afterward 
bequeath to their children. Nicholas, having highly com- 
mended this resolution, Mr. Crummies imparted such further 
intelligence relative to their mutual friends as he thought 
might prove interesting, and added a hearty invitation to 
Nicholas to attend that night a farewell supper, to be given 
in their honor at a neighboring tavern. 

This invitation Nicholas instantly accepted, promising to 
return at the conclusion of the performances, and availed 
himself of this interval to go out and buy a silver snuff-box 
as a token of remembrance for Mr. Crummies, also a pair of 
ear-rings for Mrs. Crummies, a necklace for the Phenomenon, 
and a flaming shirt-pin for each of the young gentlemen, 
after making which purchases he returned to the theatre, and 
repaired to the tavern with Mr. Crummies. 

He was received with great cordiality by those of the party 
whom he knew, and with particular joy by Mrs. Crummies, 

103 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

wlio at once said : " Here is one whom you know," — 
thrusting forward the Phenomenon, in a blue gauze frock, 
extensively llounced, and trousers of the same. 

Nicholas stooped down to salute the Phenomenon, and 
then, supper being on tabic, Mrs. Crummies gave her hand 
to Nicholas and repaired with a stately step to the repast, 
followed by the other guests. 

The board being at length cleared of food ; and punch, 
wine, and spirits being placed upon it, and handed about, 
speeches were made, and health drunk to Mr. and Mrs. Vin- 
cent Crummies and the young Crummleses, after which cere- 
mony, with many adieus and embraces, the company dis- 
persed. 

Nicholas waited until he was alone with the family, to give 
his little presents, and then with honest warmth of feel- 
ing said farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Crummies, the Master 
Crummleses, and the Infant Phenomenon, — and history has 
not chronicled their further career, nor recorded to what 
greater heights of popularity the Infant Phenomenon has 
since attained. 



104 



JENNY WREN 



105 




Jenny Wren, 



JENNY WREN 



HER real name was Fanny Cleaver, but she had 
long ago dropped it, and chosen to bestow 
upon herself the fanciful appellation of Miss 
Jenny Wren, by which title she was known 
to the entire circle of her friends and busi- 
ness acquaintances. 

Miss Wren's home was in a certain little street called 
Church Street, running out from a certain square called Smith 
Square, at Millbank, and there the little lady plied her trade, 
early and late, having for companions her father and a 
lodger, Lizzie Hexam. Her father had once been a good 
workman at his own trade, but unfortunately for poor little 
Jenny Wren, was so weak in character and so confirmed in 
bad habits that she could place no trust in him, and had 
come to consider herself the head of the family, and to speak 
of him as "my child," or "my bad boy," ordering him about 
as if he were in truth, a child. 

When Lizzie H exam's brother and a friend, Bradley 
Headstone, paid their first visit to the house on Church 
Street, they knocked at the door, which promptly opened 
and disclosed a child — a dwarf, a girl — sitting on a little, low, 
old-fashioned armchair, which had a kind of little working- 
bench before it. 

" I can't get up," said the child, "because my back's bad 
and my legs are queer. But I'm the person of the house." 
" Who else is at home ? " asked Charley Hexam, staring ? 

107 



T F. N GIRLS /rom DICKENS 

" Nobody's at home at present," returned the child, with 
a l^^lil) assertion of her dignity, "except the person of the 
house." 

The {^ueer Httle figure, and the queer, but not ugly little 
face, with its bright grey eyes, was so sharp that the sharp- 
ness of the manner seemed unavoidable. 

The person of the house continued the conversation : 
*' Your sister will be in," she said, " in about a quarter of an 
hour. I'm very fond of your sister. Take a seat. And 
would you please to shut the street door first ? I can't very 
well do it myself, because my back's so bad and my legs are 
so qucor." 

They comi)licd, and the little figure went on with its work 
of gumming or gluing together pieces of cardboard and thin 
wood, cut into various shapes. The scissors and knives 
upon the bench, showed that the child herself had cut them ; 
and the bright scraps of velvet and silk and ribbon also strewn 
upon the bench showed that when duly stuffed, she was to 
cover them smartly. The dexterity of her nimble fingers was 
remarkable, and as she brought two thin edges accurately to- 
gether by giving them a little bite, she would glance at the vis- 
itors out of the corners of her grey eyes with a look that 
out-sharpened all her other sharpness. 

" You can't tell me the name of my trade, I'll be bound," 
she said. 

"You make pincushions," said Charley. 

" What else do I make ? " 

" Penwipers," said his friend. 

" Ha, ha ! What else do I make ? " 

"You do something," he returned, pointing to a corner of 
the little bench, " with straw ; but I don't know what." 

" Well done, you ! " cried the person of the house. " I 
only make pincushions and penwipers, to use up my waste. 

108 



JENNY WREN 

But my straw really docs belong to my business. Try again. 
What do I make with my straw ? " 

" Dinner-mats ?" 

" Dinner-mats ! I'll give you a clue to my trade in a 
game of forfeits. I love my love with a B because she's 
beautiful ; I hate my love with a B because she is brazen ; I 
took her to the sign of the Blue Boar ; and I treated her 
with Bonnets ; her name's Bouncer and she lives in Bedlam 
— now, what do I make with my straw? " 

" Ladies' bonnets ? " 

" Fine ladies'," said the person of the house, nodding 
assent. " Dolls'. I'm a Doll's dressmaker." 

*' I hope it's a good business ?" 

The person of the house shrugged her shoulders and shook 
her head. " No. Poorly paid. And I'm often so pressed 
for time. I had a doll married last week, and was obligc-d 
to work all night. And they take no care of tlu;ir clothes, 
and they never keep to the same fashions a month. I work 
for a doll with three daughters. Bless you, she's enough to 
ruin her husband !" The person of the house; gave a weird 
little laugh, and gave them another look out of the corners 
of her eyes. .She had an elfin chin that was capable of great 
expression ; and whenever she gave this look, she hitched 
this chin up, as if her eyes and her chin worked together 
on the same wires. 

" Are you always as busy as you are now ?" 

" Busier. I'm slack just now. I fmished a large mourn- 
ing order the day before yesterday. Doll I work for lost a 
canary bird." 

"Are you alone all day?" asked Bradley Meadstone. 
" Don't any of the neighboring children ? " 

"Ah," cried the person of the house, with a little scream 
as if the word had pricked her. " Don't talk of children. 

109 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

I can't bear children. I know their tricks and their manners ! " 
She said this with an angry little shake of her right fist, 
adding : 

" Always running about and screeching, always playing 
and fighting, always skip — skip — skipping on the pavement, 
and chalking it for their games ! Oh — I know their tricks 
and their manners ! " Shaking the little fist as before. ** And 
that's not all. Ever so often calling names in through a per- 
son's keyhole, and imitating a person's back and legs. Oh ! 
/ know their tricks and their manners. And I tell you what 
I'd do to punish 'em. There's doors under the church in 
the Square — black doors leading into black vaults. Well ! 
I'd open one of those doors, and I'd cram 'em all in, and 
then I'd lock the door and through the keyhole I'd blow in 
pepper." 

" What would be the good of blowing in pepper ? " asked 
Charley Hexam. 

" To set 'em sneezing," said the person of the house, " and 
make their eyes water. And when they were all sneezing 
and inllamed, I'd mock 'em through the keyhole. Just as 
they, with their tricks and their manners, mock a person 
through a person's keyhole ! " 

An emphatic shake of her little fist, seemed to ease the 
mind of the person of the house ; for she added with recovered 
composure, " No, no, no. No children for me. Give me 
grown-ups." 

It was difficult to guess the age of this strange creature, 
for her poor figure furnished no clue to it, and her face was 
at once so young and so old. Twelve, or at the most thirteen, 
might be near the mark. 

" I always did like grown-ups," she went on, "and always 
kept company with them. So sensible. Sit so quiet. Don't 
go prancing and capering about ! And I mean always to 

I 10 



JENNY WREN 

keep among none but grown-ups till I marry. I suppose I 
must make up my mind to marry, one of these days ! " 

At that moment Lizzie Hexam entered, and the visitors 
after saying farewell to the dolls' dressmaker, took Lizzie 
out with them for a short walk. 

The person of the house, dolls' dressmaker, and manu- 
facturer of ornamental pincushions and pen-wipers, sat in 
her quaint little low arm-chair, singing in the dark, until 
Lizzie came back. 

*' Well, Lizzie — Mizzie — Wizzie," said she, breaking off in 
her song. '* What's the news out of doors ?" 

"What's the news indoors?" returned Lizzie playfully, 
smoothing the bright long fair hair, which grew very lux- 
uriant and beautiful on the head of the dolls' dressmaker. 
It being Lizzie's regular occupation when they were alone of 
an evening to brush out and smooth the long fair hair, she 
unfastened a ribbon that kept it back while the little creat- 
ure was at work, and it fell in a beautiful shower over the 
poor shoulders that were much in need of such adorning rain. 

Lizzie then lighted a candle, put the room door and the 
house door open, and turned the little low chair and its 
occupant toward the outer air. It was a sultry night, and 
this was a fine weather arrangement when the day's work 
was done. To complete it, she seated herself by the side of 
the little chair, and protectingly drew under her arm the 
spare hand that crept up to her. 

" This is what your loving Jenny Wren calls the best time 
of the day and night," said the person of the house ; adding, 
" I have been thinking to-day what a thing it would be, if I 
should be able to have your company till I am married, or at 
least courted. Because when I'm courted, I shall make him 
do some of the things that you do for me. He couldn't 
brush my hair like you do, or help me up and downstairs 

III 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

like you do, and he couldn't do anything like you do ; but he 
could take my work home, and he could call for orders in his 
clumsy way. And he shall too. Fll trot him about, I can 
tell him ! " 

Jenny Wren had her personal vanities — happily for her — 
and no intentions were stronger in her breast than the various 
trials and torments that were, in the fulness of time, to be 
inflicted upon "him." 

" Wherever he may happen to be just at present, or who- 
ever he may happen to be," said Miss Wren, "/know 
his tricks and his manners, and I give him warning to look 
out." 

" Don't you think you're rather hard upon him ? " asked 
her friend smiling, and smoothing her hair. 

" Not a bit," replied the sage Miss Wren, with an air of 
vast experience. " My dear, they don't care for you, those 
fellows, if you're not hard upon 'em ? " 

In such light and playful conversation, which was the dear 
delight of Jenny Wren, they continued until interrupted by 
Mr. Wrayburn, a friend of Lizzie's, who fell to talking play- 
fully with Jenny Wren. 

" I think of setting up a doll. Miss Jenny," he said. 

" You had better not," replied the dressmaker. 

"Why not?" 

" You are sure to break it. All you children do." 

" But that makes good for trade, you know. Miss Wren," 
he returned. 

" I don't know about that," Miss Wren retorted ; " but you'd 
better by half set up a pen-wiper, and turn industrious, and 
use it." 

" Why, if we were all as industrious as you, little Busy 
Body, we should begin to work as soon as we could crawl, 
and there would be a bad thing ! " 

I 12 



JENNY WREN 

" Do you mean," returned the little creature with a flush 
suffusing her face, " bad for your backs and your legs ? " 

'* No, no," said the visitor, shocked at the thought of 
trifling with her infirmity. " Bad for business. If we all set 
to work as soon as we could use our hands, it would be all 
over with the dolls' dressmakers. 

"There's something in that," replied Miss Wren, "you 
have a sort of an idea in your noddle sometimes !" Then, 
resting one arm upon the elbow of her chair, resting her chin 
upon that hand, and looking vacantly before her, she said 
in a changed tone : " Talking of ideas, my Lizzie, I wonder 
how it happens that when I am working here all alone in 
the summer-time, I smell flowers. This is not a flowery 
neighborhood. It's anything but that. And yet as I sit at 
work, I smell miles of flowers ; I smell rose-leaves till I think 
I see the rose-leaves lying in heaps, bushels, on the floor ; 
I smell fallen leaves, till I put down my hand — so — and 
expect to make them rustle ; I smell the white and the pink 
May in the hedges, and all sorts of flowers that I never was 
among. For I have seen very few flowers indeed in my life." 

"Pleasant fancies to have, Jenny dear!" said her friend 
with a glance toward their visitor, as if she would have 
asked him whether they were given the child in compensa- 
tion for her losses. 

" So I think, Lizzie, when they come to me. And the 
birds I hear ! Oh ! " cried the little creature, holding out 
her hand and looking upward, " How they sing ! " 

There was something in the face and action for the mo- 
ment quite inspired and beautiful. Then the chin dropped 
musingly upon the hand again. 

" I dare say my birds sing better than other birds, and 
my flowers smell better than other flowers. For when I 
was a little child," in a tone as though it were ages ago, 

"3 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

'• the children that I used to see early in the morning were 
very different from any others I ever saw. They were not 
like me ; they were not chilled, anxious, ragged, or beaten ; 
they were never in pain. They were not like the children 
of the neighbors ; they never made me tremble all over, by 
setting up shrill noises ; and they never mocked me. Such 
numbers of them too ! All in white dresses, and with some- 
thing shining on the borders, and on their heads, that I have 
never been able to imitate with my work, though I know it 
so well. They used to come down in long, bright, slanting 
rows, and say all together, ' Who is this in pain ! Who is 
this in pain !' When I told them who it was, they an- 
swered, ' Come and play with us ! ' When I said ' I never 
play ! I can't play,' they swept about me and took me up, 
and made me light. Then it was all delicious ease and rest 
till they laid me down, and said all together, ' Have patience, 
and we will come again.' Whenever they came back, I used 
to know they were coming before I saw the long bright 
rows, by hearing them ask, all together a long way off, 
'Who is this in pain ! Who is this in pain !' And I used 
to cry out, ' Oh my blessed children, it's poor me. Have 
pity on me. Take me up and make me light ! ' " 

By degrees as she progressed in this remembrance, the 
hand was raised, the last ecstatic look returned, and she be- 
came quite beautiful again. Having so paused for a mo- 
ment, silent, with a listening smile upon her face, she looked 
round and recalled herself. 

" What poor fun you think me, don't you," she said to the 
visitor. " You may well look tired of me. But it's Satur- 
day night, and I won't detain you." 

"That is to say, Miss Wren," observed the visitor, rather 
weary of the person of the house, and quite ready to profit 
by her hint, " you wish me to go? " 

"4 



JENNY WREN 

" Well, it's Saturday night," she returned, " and my child's 
coming home. And my child is a troublesome, bad child, 
and costs me a world of scolding. I would rather you 
didn't see my child." 

"A doll ?" said the visitor, not understanding, and look- 
ing for an explanation. 

But Lizzie, with her lips only, shaping the two words, 
'^ Her father^' he took his leave immediately, and presently 
the weak and shambling figure of the child's father stum- 
bled in, to be expostulated with, and scolded, and treated as 
the person of the house always treated him, when he came 
home in such a pitiable condition. 

While they ate their supper, Lizzie tried to bring the 
child round again to that prettier and better state. But the 
charm was broken. The dolls' dressmaker had become a 
little quaint shrew, of the world, worldly ; of the earth, 
earthy. 

Poor dolls' dressmaker! How often so dragged down 
by hands that should have raised her up ; how often so mis- 
directed when losing her way on the eternal road and ask- 
ing guidance ! Poor, poor little dolls' dressmaker. 

One of Miss Jenny's firmest friends was an aged Jew, Mr. 
Riah, by name ; of venerable aspect, and a generous and 
noble nature. He was supposedly the head of the firm of 
Pubsey and Co., at Saint-Mary-Axe, but really only the 
agent of one Mr. Fledgeby, a miserly young dandy who di- 
rected all the aged Jew's transactions, and forced him into 
sharp, unfair dealings with those whom Mr. Riah himself 
would gladly have befriended ; shielding his own meanness 
and dishonesty behind the venerable figure of the Jew, and 
keeping his own connection with the firm a profound secret. 
Mr. Riah suffered himself to remain in such a position only 
because once when he had had sickness and misfortune, and 

115 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

owed Mr. Fledgeby's father both principal and interest, the 
son inheriting, had been merciful and placed him there ; and 
little did the guileless old man realize that he had long since, 
richly repaid the debt ; his age and serene respectability, 
added to the characteristics ascribed to his race, making a 
valuable screen to hide his employer's misdeeds. 

The aged Jew often befriended the dolls' dressmaker, and 
she called him, in her fanciful way, "godmother." 

On his roof-top garden, Jenny Wren and her friend 
Lizzie were sitting one day, together, when Mr. Fledgeby 
came up and joined the party, interrupting their conversa- 
tion. For the girls, perhaps with some old instinct of his 
race, the gentle Jew had spread a carpet. Seated on it, 
against no more romantic object than a blackened chimney- 
stack, over which some humble creeper had been trained, 
they both pored over one book, while a basket of common 
fruit, and another basket of strings of beads and tinsel scraps 
were lying near. 

"This, sir," explained the old Jew, "is a little dressmaker 
for little people. Explain to the master, Jenny." 

" Dolls ; that's all," said Jenny shortly. "Very difficult 
to fit too, because their figures are so uncertain. You never 
know where to expect their waists." 

" I made acquaintance with my guests, sir," pursued the 
old Jew, with an evident purpose of drawing out the dress- 
maker, " through their coming here to buy our damage and 
waste for Miss Jenny's millinery. They wear it in their 
hair, and on their ball-dresses, and even (so she tells me) 
are presented at court with it." 

"Ah!" said Fledgeby, " she's been buying that basketful 
to-day, I suppose." 

"I suppose she has," Miss Jenny interposed, "and paying 
for it too, most likely," adding, " we are thankful to come 

ii6 



JENNY WREN 

up here for rest, sir ; for the quiet and the air, and because 
it's so high. And you see the clouds rushing on above the 
narrow streets, not minding them, and you see the golden 
arrows pointing at the mountains in the sky, from which 
the wind comes, and you feel as if you were dead." 

" How do you feel when you are dead?" asked the prac- 
tical Mr. Fledgeby, much perplexed. 

" Oh so tranquil ! " cried the little creature smiling. " Oh 
so peaceful and so thankful ! And you hear the people, who 
are alive, crying and working and calling to one another in 
the close dark streets and you seem to pity them so ! And 
such a chain has fallen from you, and such a strange, good, 
sorrowful happiness comes upon you ! " 

Her eyes fell upon the old man, who, with his hands folded, 
quietly looked on. 

" Why, it was only just now," said the little creature, 
pointing at him, " that I fancied I saw him come out of his 
grave ! He toiled out at that low door, so bent and worn, 
and then he took his breath, and stood upright and looked 
all around him at the sky, and the wind blew upon him, and 
his life down in the dark was over ! — Till he was called back 
to life," she added, looking round at Fledgeby with that 
lower look of sharpness, " Why did you call him back? But 
you are not dead, you know," said Jenny Wren. " Get 
down to life !" 

Mr. Fledgeby seemed to think it a rather good suggestion, 
and with a nod turned round and took his leave. As Mr. 
Riah followed him down the stairs, the little creature called 
out to the Jew in a silvery tone, " Don't be gone long. 
Come back and be dead ! " And still as they went down, 
they heard the little sweet voice, more and more faintly, half 
calling and half singing, " Come back and be dead. Come 
back and be dead ! " And as the old man again mounted, 

117 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the call or song began to sound in his ears again, and look- 
ing above, he saw the face of the little creature looking down 
out of the glory of her long, bright, radiant hair, and musically 
repeating to him like a vision : 

" Come up and be dead ! Come up and be dead ! " 

Not long after this, there came a heavy trial to the dolls' 
dressmaker in the loss from her home of her friend and 
lodger, Lizzie Hexam. Lizzie, having disagreed with her 
brother upon a subject of vital interest to herself, and hav- 
ing an intense desire to escape from persons whom she 
knew would pursue her so long as she remained in London, 
felt it wisest to quietly disappear from the city, leaving no 
trace of her whereabouts. With the help of Mr. Riah she 
accomplished this, and found occupation in a paper-mill in 
the country, leaving poor Jenny Wren with only the slight 
consolation of her letters, and with the aged Jew for her sole 
counsellor and friend. He was frequently with Jenny Wren, 
often escorting her upon her necessary trips, in returning 
her fine ladies to their homes in various parts of the city, 
and sometimes the little creature accompanied him upon 
his own business trips, as well. 

One foggy evening as usual, he set out for Church Street, 
and, wading through the fog, waded to the doorstep of the 
dolls' dressmaker. 

Miss Wren expected him. He could see her through the 
window, by the light of her low fire — carefully banked up 
with damp cinders, that it might last the longer, and waste 
the less when she went out — sitting waiting for him, in her 
bonnet. His tap at the glass roused her from the musing 
solitude in which she sat, and she opened the door, aiding 
her steps with a little crutch-stick. 

** Good evening, godmother ! " said Miss Jenny Wren. 

The old man laughed, and gave her his arm to lean on. 

ii8 



JENNY WREN 

"Won't you come in and warm yourself, godmother?" 
she asked. 

" Not if you are ready, Cinderella, my dear." 

" Well ! " exclaimed Miss Wren, delighted. " Now you 
ARE a clever old boy ! If we only gave prizes at this 
establishment you should have the first silver medal for tak- 
ing me up so quick." As she spake thus. Miss Wren 
removed the key of the house-door from the keyhole, and 
put it in her pocket. Satisfied that her dwelling was safe, 
she drew one hand through the old man's arm, and prepared 
to ply her crutch-stick with the other. But the key was of 
such gigantic proportions that before they started, Riah pro- 
posed to carry it. 

"No, no, no ! I'll carry it myself," returned Miss Wren. 
" I'm awfully lop-sided, you know, and stowed down in my 
pocket, it'll trim the ship. To let you into a secret, god- 
mother, I wear my pocket on my high side o' purpose." 

With that they began their plodding through the fog. 

"Yes, it was truly sharp of you, godmother," returned 
Miss Wren, with great approbation, " to understand me. 
But, you see, you are so like the fairy godmother in the bright 
little books ! You look so unlike the rest of the people, and 
so much as if you had changed yourself into that shape, just 
this moment, with some benevolent object. Bah ! " cried 
Miss Jenny, putting her face close to the old man's, " I 
can see your features, godmother, behind the beard." 

" Does the fancy go to my changing other objects, too, 
Jenny?" 

" Ah ! That it does ! If you'd only borrow my stick, 
and tap this piece of pavement, it would start up a coach 
and six. I say, — Let's believe so ! " 

" With all my heart," replied the good old man. 

"And I'll tell you what I must ask you to do, godmother. 

119 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

I must ask you to be so kind as to give my child a tap, and 
change him altogether. Oh, my child has been such a bad, 
bad child of late ! It worries me almost out of my wits. 
Not done a stroke of work these ten days." 

" What shall be changed after him ? " asked Riah, in a 
compassionately playful voice. 

" Upon my word, godmother, I am afraid I must be sel- 
fish next, and get you to set me right in the back and legs. 
It's a little thing to you with your power, godmother, but 
it's a great deal to poor, weak, aching me." 

There was no querulous complaining in the words, but 
they were not the less touching for that. 

" And then ? " 

" Yes,and then — you know, godmother. We'll both jump 
into the coach and six, and go to Lizzie. This reminds 
me, godmother, to ask you a serious question. You are as 
wise as wise can be (having been brought up by the fairies), 
and you can tell me this, — Is it better to have had a good 
thing and lost it, or never to have had it ? " 

" Explain, goddaughter." 

" I feel so much more solitary and helpless without Lizzie 
now than I used to feel before I knew her." (Tears were 
in her eyes as she said so.) 

" Some beloved companionship fades out of most lives, 
my dear," said the Jew, " that of a wife, and a fair daughter, 
and a son of promise, has faded out of my own life — but the 
happiness was." 

"Ah!" said Miss Wren thoughtfully, by no means con- 
vinced . " Then I tell you what change I think you had 
better begin with, godmother. You had better change Is 
into Was, and Was into Is, and keep them so." 

" Would that suit your case ? Would you not be always 
in pain then ? " asked the old man tenderly. 

1 20 



JENNY WREN 

"Right!" exclaimed Miss Wren. "You have changed 
me wiser, godmother. Not," she added, with a quaint hitch 
of her chin and eyes, " that you need to be a very wonder- 
ful godmother to do that, indeed ! " 

Thus conversing, they pursued their way over London 
Bridge, and struck down the river, and held their still fog- 
gier course that way. As they were going along, Jennie 
twisted her venerable friend aside to a brilliantly lighted 
toy-shop window, and said : " Now, look at 'em ! All my 
work ! " 

This referred to a dazzling semicircle of dolls in all the 
colors of the rainbow, who were dressed for all the gay 
events of life. 

" Pretty, pretty, pretty!" said the old man with a clap of 
his hands. " Most elegant taste ! " 

" Glad you like 'em," returned Miss Wren loftily. " But 
the fun is, godmother, how I make the great ladies try my 
dresses on. Though it's the hardest part of my business, 
and would be, even if my back were not bad and my legs 
queer." 

He looked at her as not understanding what she said. 

" Bless you, godmother," said Miss Wren, " I have to scud 
about town at all hours. If it was only sitting at my bench, 
cutting out and sewing, it would be comparatively easy 
work ; but it's the trying-on by the great ladies that takes it 
out of me." 

" How the trying-on ? " asked Riah. 

" What a moony godmother you are, after all ! " returned 
Miss Wren. " Look here. There's a Drawing-room, or a 
grand day in the Park, or a show or a fete, or what you like. 
Very well. I squeeze among the crowd, and I look about 
me. When I see a great lady very suitable for my business, 
I say, ' You'll do, my dear ! ' and I take particular notice of her 

121 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

again, and run home and cut her out, and baste her. Then 
another day I come scudding back again to try on. Some- 
times she plainly seems to say, ' How that little creature is 
staring ! ' All the time I am only saying to myself, ' I must 
hollow out a bit here ; I must slope away there ' ; and I am 
making a perfect slave of her, making her try on my doll's 
dress. Evening parties are severer work for me, because 
there's only a doorway for full view, and what with hobbling 
among the wheels of the carriages and the legs of the 
horses, I fully expect to be run over some night. When- 
ever they go bobbing into the hall from the carriage, and 
catch a glimpse of my little physiognomy poked out from 
behind a policeman's cape in the rain, I daresay they think 
I am wondering and admiring with all my eyes and heart, 
but they little think they're only working for my dolls ! 
There was Lady Belinda Whitrose. I said one night when 
she came out of the carriage. * You'll do, my dear ! ' and I 
ran straight home, and cut her out, and basted her. Back 
I came again, and waited behind the men that called the 
carriages. Very bad night too. At last, * Lady Belinda's 
Whitrose's carriage ! ' Lady Belinda Whitrose coming 
down ! And I made her try on — oh ! and take pains about 
it too — before she got seated. That's Lady Belinda hang- 
ing up by the waist, much too near the gas-light for a wax 
one, with her toes turned in." 

When they had plodded on for some time, they reached 
a certain tavern, where Mr. Riah had some business to 
transact with its proprietress. Miss Abbey Potterson, to 
whom he presented himself, and was about to introduce his 
young companion when Miss Wren interrupted him : 

" Stop a bit," she said, " I'll give the lady my card." She 
produced it from her pocket with an air, and Miss Abbey 
took the diminutive document, and found it to run thus : 

122 



JENNY WREN 



Miss JENNY WREN. 
Dolls* Dressmaker, 

Dolls attended at their own residences. 



So great were her amusement and astonishment, and so 
interested was she in the odd little creature that she at 
once asked : 

" Did you ever taste shrub, child ?" 

Miss Wren shook her head. 

"Should you like to?" 

" Should if it's good," returned Miss Wren. 

" You shall try. Put your little feet on the fender. It's a 
cold, cold night, and the fog clings so." As Miss Abbey helped 
her to turn her chair, her loosened bonnet fell on the floor. 
" Why, what lovely hair ! " cried Miss Abbey. " And 
enough to make wigs for all the dolls in the world. What 
a quantity ! " 

"Call that a quantity?" returned Miss Wren. ''Poof! 
What do you say to the rest of it ? " As she spoke, she un- 
tied a band, and the golden stream fell over herself, and over 
the chair, and flowed down to the ground. Miss Abbey's 
admiration seemed to increase her perplexity. She beckoned 
the Jew towards her, and whispered : 

" Child or woman ? " 

" Child in years," was the answer ; " woman in self-reliance 
and trial." 

" You are talking about me, good people," thought Miss 
Jenny, sitting in her golden bower, warming her feet. " I can't 
hear what you say, but I know your tricks and your manners ! " 

123 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

The shrub, mixed by Miss Potterson's skilful hands, was 
perfectly satisfactory to Miss Jenny's palate, and she sat 
and sipped it leisurely while the interview between Mr. 
Riah and Miss Potterson proceeded, keenly regretting when 
the bottom of the glass was reached, and the interview at 
an end. 

There was at this time much curiosity among Lizzie 
Hexam's acquaintances to discover her hiding-place, and 
many of them paid visits to the dolls' dressmaker in hopes 
of obtaining from her the desired address. Among these 
was Mr. Wrayburn, whom we find calling upon Miss Wren 
one evening : 

" And so. Miss Jenny," he said, " I cannot persuade you 
to dress me a doll ? " 

** No," replied Miss Wren snappishly; ** If you want one, 
go and buy it at the shop." 

" And my charming young goddaughter," said Mr. Wray- 
burn plaintively, "down in Hertfordshire " 

("Humbugshire, you mean, I think," interposed Miss Wren) 
— " is to be put upon the cold footing of the general public, 
and is to derive no advantage from my private acquaint- 
ance with the Court dressmaker?" 

" If it's any advantage to your charming godchild, and oh, 
a precious godfather she has got ! " replied Miss Wren, prick- 
ing at him in the air with her needle, ** to be informed that 
the Court dressmaker knows your tricks and your manners, 
you may tell her so, by post, with my compliments." 

Miss Wren was busy with her work, by candlelight, and 
Mr. Wrayburn, half amused and half vexed, stood by her 
bench looking on, while her troublesome child was in the cor- 
ner, in deep disgrace on account of his bad behavior, and as 
Miss Jenny worked, she rated him severely, accompanying 
each reproach with a stamp of her foot. 

124 



JENNY WREN 

"Pay five shillings for you indeed!" she exclaimed in 
response to his appeal for money. " How many hours do 
you suppose it costs me to earn five shillings, you infamous 
boy ? Don't cry like that, or I'll throw a doll at you. Pay 
five shillings fine for you, indeed ! Fine in more ways than 
one, I think ! I'd give the dustman five shillings to carry 
you off in the dust-cart." 

The figure in the corner continuing to whine and whimper, 
Miss Wren covered her face with her hand. " There ! " she 
said, "I can't bear to look at you. Go upstairs and get me 
my bonnet and shawl. Make yourself useful in some way, 
bad boy, and let me have your room instead of your com- 
pany, for one half minute." 

Obeying her, he shambled out, and Mr. Wrayburn, pity- 
ing, saw the tears exude between the little creature's fingers, 
as she kept her hand before her* eyes. 

"I am going to the Italian Opera to try on," said Miss 
Wren, taking away her hand, and laughing satirically to hide 
that she had been crying. " But let me first tell you, Mr. 
Wrayburn, once for all, that it's no use your paying visits to 
me. You wouldn't get what you want of me, no, not if you 
brought pincers with you to tear it out." 

With which statement, and a further admonition to her 
father, who had come back, she blew her candles out, and 
taking her big door-key in her pocket, and her crutch-stick 
in her hand, marched off. 

Not many months later, one day while Miss Wren was 
waiting in the office of Pubsey and Co., for Mr. Riah to 
come in and sell her the waste she was accustomed to buy, 
she overheard a conversation between Mr. Fledgeby, who 
had apparently happened in, and a friend who was also wait- 
ing for Mr. Riah. 

This conversation led her to infer that her old friend was 

125 



TEN GIRLS fro7n DICKENS 

both a treacherous and dishonest man, and entirely un- 
worthy to be trusted in any capacity. Seemingly the con- 
versation was not meant for her ears, but Mr. Fledgeby had 
planned that she should hear it, and that it should have the 
very effect upon her which it had. This was Mr. Fledgeby's 
retort upon Miss Wren for the over-sharpness with which she 
always treated him, and also a pleasant instance of his humor 
as regarded the old Jew. "He has got a bad name as an 
old Jew, and he is paid for the use of it, and I'll have my 
money's worth out of him." Thus ran Mr. Fledgeby's 
reflections on the subject, and Miss Wren sat listening to the 
conversation with a fallen countenance, until Mr. Riah came 
in, when Mr. Fledgeby led the old man to make statements 
which seemed further to emphasize his hard-heartedness 
and dishonesty. 

Then Mr. Riah filled Miss Wren's little basket with such 
scraps as she could buy, saying : 

"There, my Cinderella dear, the basket's full now. Bless 
you, and get you gone !" 

" Don't call me your Cinderella dear," returned Miss Wren. 
** Oh, you cruel godmother ! " 

She shook that emphatic little forefinger of hers in his 
face at parting, and as he did not attempt to vindicate him- 
self, went on her way, to return no more to Saint Mary Axe ; 
chance having disclosed to her (as she supposed) the flinty 
and hypocritical character of Mr. Riah. She often moral- 
ized over her work on the tricks and the manners of that vener- 
erable cheat, but made her little purchases elsewhere, and 
lived a secluded life. But during several interviews which 
she chanced to have later with Mr. Fledgeby, the clever 
little creature made him by his own words, disclose his sys- 
tem of treachery and trickery, and prove that the aged Jew 
had been screening his employer at his own expense. There- 

126 



JENNY WREN 

upon Miss Jenny lost no time in once again proceeding to 
the place of business of Pubsey and Co., where she found 
the old man sitting at his desk. In less time than it takes 
to tell it, she had folded her arms about his neck, and kissed 
him, imploring his forgiveness for her lack of faith in him, 
adding: " It did look bad, now, didn't it?" 

"It looked so bad, Jenny," responded the old man with 
gravity, " that I was hateful in mine own eyes. I perceived 
that the obligation was upon me to leave this service. 
Whereupon I indited a letter to my master to that effect, 
but he held me to certain months of servitude, which were 
his lawful term of notice. They expire to-morrow. Upon 
their expiration — not before — I had meant to set myself 
right with my Cinderella." 

While they were thus conversing, the aged Jew received an 
angry communication from Mr. Fledgeby, releasing Mr. Riah 
at once from his service, to the great satisfaction of the old 
man, who then got his few goods together in a black bag, 
closed the shutters, pulled down the office blind, and issued 
forth upon the steps. There, while Miss Jenny held the bag, 
the old man locked the house door, and handed the key over 
to the messenger who had brought the note of dismissal. 

*' Well, godmother," said Miss Wren, " and so you're 
thrown upon the world ! " 

" It would appear so, Jenny, and rather suddenly." 

" Where are you going to seek your fortune ? " asked Miss 
Wren. The old man smiled, but gazed about him with a 
look of having lost his way in life, which did not escape the 
dolls' dressmaker. 

" The best thing you can do," said Jenny, " for the time 
being, at all events, is to come home with me, godmother. 
Nobody's there but my bad child, and Lizzie's lodging 
stands empty." 

127 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

The old man, when satisfied that no inconvenience could 
be entailed on any one by this move, readily complied, and 
the singularly assorted couple once more went through the 
streets together. 

And it was a kindly Providence which placed the child's 
hand in the aged Jew's protecting one that night. Before 
they reached home, they met a sad party, bearing in their 
arms an inaminate form, at which the dolls' dressmaker 
needed but to take one look. 

" Oh gentlemen, gentlemen," she cried, "He belongs to 
me !" " Belongs to you ! " said the head of the party, stop- 
ping ; — "Oh yes, dear gentlemen, he's my child, out without 
leave. My poor, bad, bad boy ! And he don't know me, 
he don't know me ! Oh, what shall I do ? " cried the little 
creature, wildly beating her hands together, "when my own 
child don't know me ! " 

The head of the party looked to the old Jew for explana- 
tion. He whispered, as the dolls' dressmaker bent over the 
still form, and vainly tried to extract some sign of recogni- 
tion from it ; " It's her drunken father." 

Then the sad party with their lifeless burden went through 
the streets. After it, went the dolls' dressmaker, hiding 
her face in the Jewish skirts, and clinging to them with one 
hand, while with the other she plied her stick, and at last 
the little home in Church Street was reached. 

Many flaunting dolls had to be gaily dressed, before the 
money was in the dressmaker's pocket to get mourning for 
her father. As Mr. Riah sat by, helping her in such small 
ways as he could, he found it difficult to make out whether 
she realized that the deceased had really been her father. 

" If my poor boy," she would say, "had been brought up 
better, he might have done better. Not that I reproach 
myself. I hope I have no cause for that." . 

128 



JENNY WREN 

" None, indeed, Jenny, I am very certain." 

"Thank you, godmother. It cheers me to hear you say 
so. But you see it is so hard to bring up a child well, when 
you work, work, work, all day. When he was out of em- 
ployment, I couldn't always keep him near me. He got 
fractious and nervous, and I was obliged to let him go into 
the streets. And he never did well in the streets, he never 
did well out of sight. How often it happens with children ! 
How can I say what I might have turned out myself, but 
for my back having been so bad and my legs so queer, when 
I was young!" the dressmaker would go on. " I had noth- 
ing to do but work, so I worked. I couldn't play. But my 
poor, unfortunate child could play, and it turned out worse 
for him." 

" And not for him alone, Jenny." 

" Well, I don't know, godmother. He suffered heavily, 
did my unfortunate boy. He was very, very ill sometimes. 
And I called him a quantity of names ; " shaking her head 
over her work, and dropping tears. 

" You are a good girl, you are a patient girl." 

"As for patience," she would reply with a shrug, "not 
much of that, godmother. If I had been patient, I should 
never have called him names. But I hope I did it for his 
good. And besides, I felt my responsibility as a mother so 
much. I tried reasoning, and reasoning failed. I tried 
coaxing, and coaxing failed. I tried scolding, and scolding 
failed. But I was bound to try everything, with such a 
charge on my hands. Where would have been my duty to 
my poor lost boy, if I had not tried everything ? " 

With such talk, mostly in a cheerful tone on the part of 
the industrious little creature, the day work and the night 
work were beguiled, until enough of smart dolls had gone 
forth to bring in the sombre stuff that the occasion required, 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

and to bring into the house the other sombre preparations. 
"And now," said Miss Jenny, "having knocked off my rosy- 
cheeked young friends, I'll knock off my white-cheeked self." 
This referred to her making her own dress which at last was 
done, in time for the simple service, the arrangements for 
which were of her own planning. The service ended, and 
the solitary dressmaker having returned to her home, she 
said : 

" I must have a very short cry, godmother, before I cheer 
up for good. Because after all, a child is a child, you 
know." 

It was a longer cry than might have been expected. 
Howbeit, it wore itself out in a shadowy corner, and then 
the dressmaker came forth, and washed her face, and made 
the tea. 

" You wouldn't mind my cutting out something while we 
are at tea, would you ?" she asked with a coaxing air. 

" Cinderella, dear child," the old man expostulated. 
'* Will you never rest ? " 

" Oh ! It's not work, cutting out a pattern isn't," said Miss 
Jenny, with her busy little scissors already snipping at some 
paper ; " The truth is, godmother, I want to fix it, while I 
have it correct in my mind." 

" Have you seen it to-day, then ?" asked Riah. 

" Yes, godmother. Saw it just now. It's a surplice, that's 
what it is. Thing our clergymen wear, you know," ex- 
plained Miss Jenny, in consideration of his professing another 
faith. 

" And what have you to do with that, Jenny ?" 

" Why, godmother," replied the dressmaker, " you must 
know that we professors, who live upon our taste and inven- 
tion, are obliged to keep our eyes always open. And you know 
already that I have many extra expenses to meet. So it 

130 



JENNY WREN 

came into my head, while I was weeping at my poor boy's 
grave, that something in my way might be done with a cler- 
gyman. Not a funeral, never fear;" said Miss Jenny. 
" The public don't like to be made melancholy, I know very 
well. But a doll clergyman, my dear,— glossy black curls 
and whiskers — uniting two of my young friends in matri- 
mony," said Miss Jenny shaking her forefinger, "is quite 
another affair. If you don't see those three at the altar in 
Bond Street, in a jiffy, my name's Jack Robinson ! " 

With her expert little ways in sharp action, she had got a 
doll into whitey-brown paper orders,- before the meal was 
over, and displayed it for the edification of the Jewish mind, 
and Mr. Riah was lost in admiration for the brave, resolute 
little soul, who could so put aside her sadness to meet and 
face her pressing need. 

And many times thereafter was he likewise lost in admir- 
ation of his little friend, who continued her business as of 
old, only without the burden of responsibility by which her 
life had heretofore been clouded, and more able to give her 
imagination free play along the lines of her interests, with- 
out the pressure of home care resting upon her poor 
shoulders. 

Our last glimpse of her, is as usual, before her little work- 
bench, at work upon a full-dressed, large sized doll, when 
there comes a knock upon the door. When it is opened 
there is disclosed a young fellow known to his friends and 
employer, as Sloppy. 

Sloppy was full private No i in the Awkward Squad of the 
rank and file of life, and yet had his glimmering notions of 
standing true to his colors, and in instinctive refinement of 
feeling was much above others who outranked him in birth 
and education. 

"Come in, sir," said Miss Wren, "and who may you be?" 

131 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

Mr. Sloppy introduced himself by name and buttons. 

"Oh, indeed," cried Jenny, " I have heard of you." 

Sloppy, grinning, was so glad to hear it that he threw 
back his head and laughed. 

" Bless us ! " exclaimed Miss Wren, with a start, " Don't 
open your mouth as wide as that, young man, or it'll catch 
so, and not shut again, some day." 

Mr. Sloppy opened it, if possible, wider, and kept it open, 
until his laugh was out. 

" Why, you're like the giant," said Miss Wren, " when 
he came home in the land of Beanstalk, and wanted Jack for 
supper." 

"Was he good looking. Miss?" asked Sloppy. 

" No," said Miss Wren. '' Ugly." 

Her visitor glanced round the room — which had many 
comforts in it now, that it had not had before — and said : 

"This is a pretty place. Miss. 

" Glad you think so, sir," returned Miss Wren. " And 
what do you think of Me?" 

The honesty of Mr. Sloppy being severely taxed by the 
question, he twisted a button, grinned, and faltered. 

" Out with it," said Miss Wren, with an arch look. " Don't 
you think me a queer little comicality ? " In shaking her head 
at him after asking the question, she shook her hair down. 

" Oh ! " cried Sloppy in a burst of admiration. " What a 
lot, and what a color ! " 

Miss Wren with her usual expressive hitch, went on with 
her work. But left her hair as it was, not displeased by the 
effect it had made. 

"You don't live here alone, do you, Miss?" asked 
Sloppy. 

" No," said Miss Wren with a chop. " Live here with my 
fairy godmother." 

132 



JENNY WREN 

"With;" Mr. Sloppy couldn't make it out ; "with, who 
did you say, Miss ? '* 

" Well ! " replied Miss Wren more seriously. " With my 
second father. Or with my first, for that matter." And she 
shook her head and drew a sigh. "If you had known a 
poor child I used to have here," she added, " you'd have 
understood me. But you didn't and you can't. All the 
better!" 

"You must have been taught a long time, Miss," said 
Sloppy, glancing at the array of dolls on hand, "before you 
came to work so neatly, Miss, and with such a pretty taste." 

" Never was taught a stitch, young man !" returned the 
dressmaker, tossing her head. "Just gobbled and gobbled, 
till I found out how to do it. Badly enough at first, but 
better now." 

"And here have I," said Sloppy, in a self-reproachful 
tone, " been a-learning and a-learning at cabinet-making, ever 
so long ! I'll tell you what, Miss, I should like to make you 
something." 

" Much obliged, but what ? " 

" I could make you," said Sloppy, surveying the room, "a 
handy set of nests to lay the dolls in. Or a little set of 
drawers to keep your silks and threads and scraps in. Or I 
could turn you a rare handle for that crutch-stick, if it belongs 
to him you call your father." 

"It belongs to me," said the little creature, with a quick 
flush of her face and neck. " I am lame." 

Poor Sloppy flushed too, for there was an instinctive deli- 
cacy behind his buttons. He said perhaps, the best thing 
in the way of amends that could be said. " I am very glad 
It's yours, because I'd rather ornament it for you than for any 
one else. Please, may I look at it ? " 

Miss Wren was in the act of handing it over to him 

133 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

when she paused. " But you had better see me use it," she 
said sharply. "This is the way. Hoppetty, kicketty, peg- 
peg-peg. Not pretty, is it ? " 

" It seems to me that you hardly want it at all," said 
Sloppy. 

The little dressmaker sat down again, and gave it into his 
hand, saying with that better look upon her, and with a 
smile : 

" Thank you ! You are a very kind yotmg man, a really 
kind young man. I accept your offer — I suppose He won't 
mind," she added as an afterthought, shrugging her shoul- 
ders ; " and if he does, he may !" 

" Meaning him you call your father, Miss ? " said Sloppy. 

'• No, no," replied Miss Wren. " Him, him, him !" 

''Him, HIM, HIM?" repeated Sloppy, staring about, as if 
for him. 

" Him who is coming to court and marry me," returned 
Miss Wren. " Dear me, how slow you are ! " 

"Oh! Him!" said Sloppy, "I never thought of him. 
When is he coming. Miss ? " 

'* What a question ! " cried Miss Wren. '* How should I 
know ? " 

" Where is he coming from, Miss ?" 

"Why, good gracious, how can I tell! He is coming 
from somewhere or other, I suppose, and he is coming some 
day or other, I suppose. I don't know any more about him, 
at present." 

This tickled Mr. Sloppy as an extraordinarily good joke, 
and he threw back his head and laughed with measureless 
enjoyment. At the sight of him laughing in that absurd 
way, the dolls' dressmaker laughed very heartily indeed. So 
they both laughed till they were tired. 

" There, there, there ! " said Miss Wren. " For goodness 

134 



JENNY WREN 

sake, stop, Giant, or I shall be swallowed up alive, before I 
know it. And to ihis minute you haven't said what you've 
come for ? " 

" I have come for little Miss Harmonses' doll," said 
Sloppy. 

" I thought as much," remarked Miss Wren, "and here is 
little Miss Harmonses' doll waiting for you. She's folded 
up in silver paper, you see, as if she was wrapped from head 
to foot in new banknotes. Take care of her — and there's 
my hand — and thank you again." 

" I'll take more care of her than if she was a gold image," 
said Sloppy, " and there's both my hands, Miss, and I'll soon 
come back again ! " 

Here we leave the little dolls' dressmaker, under the pro- 
tecting care of her "godmother," the first real guardian she 
has ever known, and with a new friendship to supply her 
life with that youthful intercourse which has never been 
hers. And so in leaving her our hearts are light, for Miss 
Jenny Wren is brighter now, and happier now, and younger 
now, than ever before. 



135 



SISSY JUPE 



137 




Sissy Jupf. and Her Father. 



SISSY JUPE 



'"]^ "yOW, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys 

1^^^ and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone 

I ^^ are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and 

root out everything else. You can only form 

the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts : 

nothing else will be of any service to them. This is the 

principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is 

the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to 

Facts, sir ! " 

The scene was a bare, plain, monotonous vault of a 
schoolroom, and the speaker's square forefinger emphasized 
his observation. The emphasis was helped by his square 
wall of a forehead, by his thin and hardset mouth, by his 
inflexible and dictatorial voice, and by the hair which bristled 
on the skirts of his bald head, as if the head had scarcely 
warehouse room for the hard facts stowed inside. The 
speaker's obstinate carriage, square coat, square legs, square 
shoulders, — nay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by 
the throat with an unaccommodating grasp, like a stubborn 
fact, as it was, — all helped the emphasis. 

" In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir ! Nothing 
but Facts ! " 

The speaker, Mr. Thomas Gradgrind, and the schoolmas- 
ter, Mr. M'Choakumchild, and the third grown person 
present, all backed a little, and swept with their eyes the 

139 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in 
order, ready to have imperial gallons of Facts poured into 
them until they were full to the brim. 

" Girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, squarely point- 
ing with his square forefinger, " I don't know that girl. 
Who is that girl ? " 

"Sissy Jupe, sir," explained number twenty, blushing, 
standing up, and curtseying. 

" Sissy is not a name," said Mr. Gradgrind. " Call your- 
self Cecilia." 

" It's father as calls me Sissy, sir," returned the young 
girl with another curtsey. 

"Then he has no business to do it," said Mr. Gradgrind. 
" Tell him he mustn't. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What 
is your father ? " 

" He belongs to the horse-riding, if you please, sir." 

Mr. Gradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable 
calling with his hand. 

** We don't want to know anything about that here. Your 
father breaks horses, don't he ? " 

"If you please, sir, when they can get any to break, 
they do break horses in the ring." 

"You mustn't tell us about the ring here. Very well, 
then. Describe your father as a horse-breaker. He doctors 
sick horses, I dare say ? " 

" Oh, yes, sir." 

" Very well, then. He Is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier 
and horse-breaker. Give me your definition of a horse." 

(Sissy Jupe thrown into the greatest alarm by this 
demand). 

" Girl number twenty unable to define a horse ! " said 
Mr. Gradgrind, for the general behoof of all the little 
pitchers. " Girl number twenty possessed of no facts in 

140 



SISSY JUPE 

reference to one of the commonest of animals ! Some boy's 
definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours ! " 

"Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth, namely 
twenty-four grinders, four eye-teeth, and twelve incisive. 
Sheds coat in the spring ; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs 
too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age 
known by marks in mouth." Thus (and much more)Bitzer. 

" Now, girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, "you 
know what a horse is." 

She curtsied again, blushed, and sat down, and the third 
gentleman present stepped forth, briskly smiling and fold- 
ing his arms. " That's a horse," he said. " Now, let me 
ask you, boys and girls, would you paper a room with repre- 
sentations of horses ? " 

After a pause, one-half of the children cried in chorus, 
*' Yes, sir ! " Upon which the other half, seeing in the gentle- 
man's face that Yes was wrong, cried out in chorus, " No, sir ! " 

" Of course. No. Why wouldn't you ?" 

A pause. One boy ventured the answer, because he 
wouldn't paper a room at all, but would paint it. 

" You must paper it," said Thomas Gradgrind, " whether 
you like it or not. Don't tell us you wouldn't paper it. 
What do you mean, boy ? " 

" I'll explain to you then," said the gentleman, after 
another pause, " why you wouldn't paper a room with a 
representation of horses. Do you ever see horses walking 
up and down the sides of rooms in reality — in fact ? Of 
course. No. Why then, you are not to see anywhere what 
you don't see in fact ; you are not to have anywhere what 
you don't have in fact. This is a new principle, a great dis- 
covery," said the gentleman. " Now I'll try you again. 
Would you use a carpet having a representation of flowers 
upon it ? " 

141 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" There being a general conviction by this time that, " No 
sir ! " was always the right answer to this gentleman, the 
chorus of No was very strong. Only a few feeble stragglers 
said Yes ; among them Sissy Jupe. 

" Girl number twenty," said the gentleman, " why would 
you carpet your room with representations of flowers ? " 

" If you please, sir, I'm very fond of flowers," returned 
the girl. 

" And is that why you would put tables and chairs upon 
them, and have people walking over them with heavy 
boots ? " 

" It wouldn't hurt them, sir. They wouldn't crush and 
wither, please sir. They would be the pictures of what was 
very pretty and pleasant, sir, and I would fancy " 

" Ay, ay, ay ! but you mustn't fancy," cried the gentleman, 
quite elated by coming so happily to his point. "You are 
never to fancy." 

"You are not, Cecilia Jupe," Thomas Gradgrind solemnly 
repeated, " to do anything of that kind. You don't walk 
upon flowers in fact ; you cannot be allowed to walk upon 
flowers in carpets. You don't find that foreign birds and 
butterflies come and perch upon your crockery ; you cannot 
be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon your 
crockery. You never meet with quadrupeds going up and 
down walls ; you must not have quadrupeds represented upon 
walls. You must use," said the gentleman, "for all these 
purposes, combinations and modifications in primary colors of 
mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and dem- 
onstration. This is the new discovery. This is fact. This is 
taste." 

The girl curtseyed and sat down. She was very young, 
and she looked as if she were frightened by the matter- 
of-fact prospect the world afforded ; while the teacher pro- 

142 



SISSY J UPE 

ceeded to give a lesson based upon hard Fact for the 
benefit of his visitors. 

Mr. Gradgrind walked homeward from the school, in a 
state of considerable satisfaction. It was his school, and he 
intended it to be a model. He intended every child in it to 
be a model, just as the five young Gradgrinds were all models. 

No little Gradgrind had ever seen a face in the moon ; no 
little Gradgrind had ever learnt the silly jingle, " Twinkle, 
twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are " ; each little 
Gradgrind having at five years old dissected the Great 
Bear, and driven Charles's Wain like a locomotive engine- 
driver. No little Gradgrind had ever associated a cow in 
a field with that famous cow with a crumpled horn who 
tossed the dog, who worried the cat, who killed the rat, 
who ate the malt, or with that more famous cow who swal- 
lowed Tom Thumb. It had never heard of those celebrities, 
and had only been introduced to a cow as a graminivorous, 
ruminating quadruped with several stomachs. 

To his matter-of-fact home, which was called Stone Lodge, 
Mr. Gradgrind directed his steps, walking on in a hopeful 
and satisfied frame of mind. He was an affectionate father, 
after his manner ; but allowed no foolish sentiment to inter- 
fere with the practical basis of his childrens' education and 
bringing-up. 

He had reached the outskirts of the town, when his ears 
were invaded by the sound of the band attached to the 
horse-riding establishment, which had there set up its rest 
in a wooden pavilion. A flag floating from the summit of 
the temple, proclaimed to mankind that it was Sleary's Horse- 
Riding which claimed their suffrages. Among the many 
pleasing wonders which must be seen to be believed, Signor 
Jupe was that afternoon to "elucidate the diverting accom- 
plishments of his highly trained performing dog, Merrylegs." 

143 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

He was also to exhibit " his astounding feat of throwing 
seventy-five hundred weight in rapid succession back-handed 
over his head, thus forming a fountain of soHd iron in mid- 
air, a feat never before attempted in this or any other 
country, and which having ehcited such rapturous plaudits 
from enthusiastic thronors it cannot be withdrawn." The 

o 

same Signor Jupe was to " enliven the varied performances 
at frequent intervals with his chaste Shakesperean quips 
and retorts." Lastly, he was to wind them up by appearing 
in his favorite character of Mr. William Button, of Tooley 
Street, in "the highly novel and laughable Hippo Comedi- 
etta of The Tailor's Journey to Brentford." 

Thomas Gradgrind took no heed of these trivialities, but 
passed on, as a practical man ought to pass on. But, at the 
back of the booth he saw a number of children conorreofated " 
in a number of stealthy attitudes, striving to peep in at the 
hidden glories of the place. What did he then behold but 
his own Louisa peeping with all her might through a hole 
in a deal board, and his own Thomas abasing himself on 
the ground to catch but a hoof of the graceful Tyrolean 
Flower-act ! 

Dumb with amazement, Mr. Gradgrind crossed to the 
spot where his family was thus disgraced, laid his hand 
upon each erring child, and said : 

" Louisa ! ! Thomas ! ! " 

Both rose, red and disconcerted. 

"In the name of wonder, idleness, and folly!" said Mr. 
Gradgrind, leading each away by a hand ; " what do you do 
here?" 

" Wanted to see what it was like," returned Louisa 
shortly. 

" You ! " exclaimed Mr. Gradgrind. " Thomas and you, 
to whom the circle of the sciences is open ; who may be said 

144 



SISSY JUPE 

to be replete with Fact ; who have been trained to mathe- 
matical exactness; Thomas and you, here! In this de- 
graded position ! I am amazed." 

'* I was tired, father," said Louisa. 

" Tired ? Of what ? " asked the astonished father. 

" I don't know of what — of ever^'thing, I think." 

" Say not another word," returned Mr. Gradgrind. " You 
are childish. I will hear no more." With which remark he 
led the culprits to their home in silence, into the presence 
of their fretful invalid mother, who was much annoyed at 
the disturbance they had created. While she was peevishly 
expressing her mind on the subject, Mr. Gradgrind was 
gravely pondering upon the matter. 

" Whether," he said, " whether any instructor or servant 
can have suggested anything ? Whether, in spite of all pre- 
cautions, any idle story-book can have got into the house for 
Louisa or Thomas to read ? Because in minds that have 
been practically formed by rule and line, from the cradle 
upwards, this is incomprehensible." 

" Stop a bit ! " cried his friend Bounderby. " You have 
one of those Stroller's children in the school, Cecilia Jupe 
by name ! I tell you what, Gradgrind, turn this girl to the 
right-about, and there is an end of it." 

" I am much of your opinion." 

*' Do it at once," said Bounderby, "has always been my 
motto. Do you the same. Do this at once ! " 

" I have the father's address," said his friend. " Perhaps 
you would not mind walking to town with me ? " 

" Not the least in the world," said Mr. Bounderby, " as 
long as you do it at once ! " 

So Mr. Gradgrind and his friend immediately set out to 
find Cecilia Jupe, and to order her from henceforth to remain 
away from school. On the way there they met her. " Now, 

145 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

girl," said Mr. Gradgrind, '* take this gentleman and me to 
your father's ; we are going there. What have you got in 
that bottle you are carrying ? " 

" It's the nine oils." 

" The what ?" cried Mr. Bounderby. 

" The nine oils, sir, to rub father with. It is what our 
people always use, sir, when they get any hurts in the ring," 
replied the girl, " they bruise themselves very bad some- 
times." 

" Serves them right," said Mr. Bounderby, " for being 
idle." The girl glanced up at his face with mingled aston- 
ishment and dread as he said this, but she led them on down 
a narrow road, until they stopped at the door of a little pub- 
lic house. 

"This is it, sir," she said. " It's only crossing the bar^ 
sir, and up the stairs, if you wouldn't mind ; and waiting 
there for a moment till I get a candle. If you should hear 
a dog, sir, it's only Merrylegs, and he only barks." 

They followed the girl up some steep stairs, and stopped 
while she went on for a candle. Reappearing, with a face 
of great surprise, she said, " Father is not in our room, sir. 
If you wouldn't mind walking in, sir? I'll find him di- 
rectly." 

They walked in ; and Sissy having set two chairs for them, 
sped away with a quick, light step. They heard the doors 
of rooms above opening and shutting, as Sissy went from 
one to another in quest of her father. She came bounding 
down again in a great hurry, opened an old hair trunk, found 
it empty, and looked around with her face full of terror. 

" Father must have gone down to the Booth, sir. I'll 
bring him in a minute ! " She was gone directly, without 
her bonnet ; with her long, dark, childish hair streaming be- 
hind her. 

146 



SISSY J UPE 

" What does she mean ! " said Mr. Gradgrind. " Back in 
a minute ? It's more than a mile off." 

Before Mr. Bounderby could reply, a young man men- 
tioned in the bills of the day as Mr. E. W. B. Childers, — 
justly celebrated for his daring vaulting act as the wild 
huntsman of the North American prairies, appeared. Upon 
entering into conversation with Mr. Gradgrind he informed 
that gentleman of his opinion that Jupe was off. 

" Do you mean that he has deserted his daughter ?" asked 
Mr. Gradgrind. 

"I mean," said Mr. Childers with a nod, "that he has 
cut. He has been short in his leaps and bad in his tum- 
bling lately, missed his tip several times, too. He was 
goosed last night, he was goosed the night before last, he 
was goosed to-day. He has lately got in the way of being 
always goosed, and he can't stand it." 

" Why has he been — so very much — goosed ? " asked Mr. 
Gradgrind, forcing the word out of himself, with great so- 
lemnity and reluctance. 

" His joints are turning stiff, and he is getting used up," 
said Childers. " He has his points as a Cackler still, a 
speaker, if the gentleman likes it better — but he can't get a 
living out of that. Now it's a remarkable fact, sir, that it 
cut that man deeper to know that his daughter knew of his 
being goosed than to go through with it. Jupe sent her out 
on an errand not an hour ago, and then was seen to slip out 
himself, with his dog behind him and a bundle under his arm. 
She will never believe it of her father, but he has cut away 
and left her. 

" Poor Sissy ! he had better have apprenticed her," added 
Mr. Childers, " Now, he leaves her without anything to take 
to. Her father always had it in his head, that she was to be 
taught the deuce-and-all of education. He has been pick- 

147 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

iiii; up a bit of reading for her, hero — and a bit of writing for 
hof, thoro — and a bit of ciphering for her, somewhere else — 
these seven years. When Sissy got into the school here," 
he pursued, *' he was as pleased as Punch. I suppose he 
had this move in his mind — he was always half cracked — 
and then considered her provided for. If you should have 
happened to have looked in to-r>ii;]\t to tell him that you 
were going to Ao her any little service," added Mr. Childers, 
'* it would be very fortunate and well-timed." 

"On the contrary," returned Mr. Gradgrind, "I came to 
tell her that she could not attend our school any more. 
Still, if her father really has left her without any connivance 
on her part ! — Bounderby, let me have a word with you." 

Upon this. Mr. Childers politely betook himself outside 
the door, and there stood while the two gentlemen were 
engaged in conversation. 

Meanwhile the various members of Sleary's company 
gathered together in the room. Last of all appeared Mr. 
Sleary himself, who was stout, and troubled with asthma, 
and whose breath came far too thick and heavy for the letter s. 
Bowing to Mr. Gradgrind, he asked : 

*'Ith it your intention to do anything for the poor girl, 
Thquire ?" 

*' I shall have something to propose to her when she 
comes back," said Mr. Gradgrind. 

" Glad to hear it, Thquire. Not that I want to get rid of 
tlie child, any more than I want to thtand in her way. I'm 
willing to take her prenthith, though at her age ith late." 

Here his daughter Josephine — a pretty, fair-haired girl of 
eighteen, who had been tied on a horse at two years old, and 
had made a will at twelve, which she always carried about 
with her, expressive of her dying desire to be drawn to the 
grave by two piebald ponies — cried " Father, hush ! she has 

14S 



SISSY J U P E 

come back ! " 'I hon camf* Sissy Jup*^:, running into the room as 
she had run out of it. And when she saw them all assembled, 
and saw their looks, and saw no father there, she broke into 
a most deplorable cry, and took refuge on the bosom of the 
most accomplished tig'ht-rope lady, who knelt down on the 
floor to nurse her, and to weep over her. 

•' Ith an infernal shame, upon my thoul it ith," said Sleary. 

"O my dear father, my good, kind father, where are you gone ? 
You are gone to try to do me some good, I know ! You are 
gone away for my sake, I am sure. And how miserable and 
helpless you will be without me, poor, poor father, until you 
come back!" It was so pathetic to hear her saying many 
things of this kind, with her face turned upward, and her 
arms stretched out as if she were trying to stop his depart- 
ing shadow and embrace it, that no one spoke a word until 
Mr. Bounderby (growing impatient) took the case in hand. 

"Now, good people all," said he, "this is wanton waste 
of time. Let the girl understand the fact. Here, what's 
your name ! Your father has absconded, deserted you — 
and you mustn't expect to see him again as long as you live." 

They cared so little for plain fact, these people, that instead 
of being impressed by the speaker's strong common sense, 
they took it in extraordinary dudgeon. The men muttered 
" Shame ! " and the women, " Brute ! " Whereupon Mr. 
Gradgrind found an opening for his eminently practical 
exposition of the subject. 

" It is of no moment," said he, "whether this person is to 
be expected back at any time, or the contrary. He is gone 
away, and there is no present expectation of his return. 
That, I believe, is agreed on all hands." 

"Thath agreed, Thquire. Thtick to that I" from Sleary. 

" Well, then. I, who came here to inform the father of the 
poor girl, Jupe, that she could not be received at the school 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

any more, in consequence of there being practical objections, 
into which I need not enter, to the reception there of the 
children of persons so employed, am prepared in these altered 
circumstances to make a proposal. I am willing to take 
charge of you, Jupe, and to educate you, and provide for 
you. The only condition (over and above your good 
behavior) I make is, that you decide now, at once, whether to 
accompany me or remain here. Also, that if you accompany 
me now, it is understood that you communicate no more 
with any of your friends who are here present. These 
observations comprise the whole of the case." 

"At the thame time," said Sleary, "I muth put in my 
word, Thquire, tho that both thides of the banner may be 
equally theen. If you like, Thethillia, to be prentitht, you 
know the natur of the work, and you know your com- 
panionth. Emma Gordon, in whothe lap you're a lying at 
prethent, would be a mother to you, and Joth'phine would 
be a thithther to you. I don't pretend to be of the angel 
breed myself, and I don't thay but what, when you mith'd 
your tip, you'd find me cut up rough, and thwear a oath or 
two at you. But what I thay, Thquire, ith, that good tem- 
pered or bad tempered, I never did a horthe a injury yet, no 
more than thwearing at him went, and that I don't expect I 
thall begin otherwithe at my time of life, with a rider. I never 
wath much of a cackler, Thquire, and I have thed my thay." 

The latter part of this speech was addressed to Mr. Grad- 
grind, who received it with a grave inclination of his head, 
and then remarked : 

" The only observation I will make to you, Jupe, in the 
way of influencing your decision, is, that it is highly desir- 
able to have a sound practical education, and that even 
your father himself (from what I understand) appears, on 
your behalf, to have known and felt that much." 

150 



S I S S Y J U P E 

The last words had a visible effect upon her. She stopped 
in her wild crying, and turned her face full upon her patron. 
The whole company perceived the force of the change, and 
drew a long breath, together, that plainly said, " She will 

go!" 

** Be sure you know your own mind, Jupe," Mr. Gradgrind 
cautioned her ; " I say no more. Be sure you know your 
own mind ! " 

"When father comes back," cried the girl, bursting into 
tears again after a minute's silence, "how will he ever find 
me if I go away ! " 

" You may be quite at ease," said Mr. Gradgrind calmly ; 
he worked out the whole matter like a sum ; "you may be 
quite at ease, Jupe, on that score. In such a case, your 
father, I apprehend, must find out Mr. Sleary, who would 
then let him know where you went. I should have no 
power of keeping you against his wish." 

There was another silence ; and then Sissy exclaimed sob- 
bing, " Oh, give me my clothes, give me my clothes, and let 
me go away before I break my heart ! " 

The women sadly bestirred themselves to get the clothes 
together, and to pack them. They then brought Sissy's 
bonnet to her and put it on. Then they pressed about her, 
kissing and embracing her : and brought the children to 
take leave of her ; and were a tender-hearted, simple, foolish, 
set of women altogether. Then she had to take her fare- 
well of the male part of the company, and last of all of Mr. 
Sleary. 

" Farewell, Thethilia ! " he said, " my latht wordth to you 
ith thith: Thtick to the termth of your engagement, be 
obedient to the Thquire, and forget uth. But if, when 
you're grown up and married and well off, you come upon 
any horthe-riding ever, don't be hard upon it, don't be 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

croth with it, give it a Bethpeak if you can, and think you 
might do worth. People must be amuthed, Thquire, 
thomehow," continued Sleary, " they can't be alwayth a 
working, nor yet they can't be alwayth a learning. Make the 
betht of uth ; not the wurtht. I've got my living out of horthe- 
riding all my life, I know, but I conthider that I lay down the 
philothophy of the thubject when I thay to you, Thquire, 
make the betht of uth ; not the wurtht ! " 

The Sleary philosophy was propounded as they went 
downstairs ; and the fixed eye of Philosophy — and its roll- 
ing eye, too, — soon lost the three figures, and the basket in 
the darkness of the street. 

To Mr. Bounderby's house the weeping Sissy was con- 
ducted, and remained there while Mr. Gradgrind returned to 
Stone Lodge to mature his plans for the clown's daughter. He 
soon came back to Mr. Bounderby's, bringing his daughter 
Louisa with him, and Sissy Jupe stood before them, with 
downcast eyes, while Mr. Gradgrind thus addressed her : 

"Jupe, I have made up my mind to take you into my 
house ; and when you are not at school, to employ you 
about Mrs. Gradgrind, who is rather an invalid. I have ex- 
plained to Miss Louisa — this is Miss Louisa — the miserable 
but natural end of your late career ; and you are to under- 
stand that the subject is not to be referred to any more. 
From this time you begin your history. You are at present 
ignorant, I know." 

" Yes, sir, very," she answered curtseying. 

" I shall have the satisfaction of causing you to be strictly 
educated ; and you will be a living proof of the advantages 
of the training you will receive. You will be reclaimed and 
formed. You have been in the habit now of reading to your 
father, and those people I found you among, I dare say?" 



said Mr. Gradofrind. 



152 



SISSY J UPE 

** Only to father and to Merrylegs, sir. At least I mean 
to father, when Merrylegs was always there." 

" Never mind Merrylegs, Jupe," said Mr. Gradgrind with 
a frown. " I don't ask about him. I understand you have 
been in the habit of reading to your father, and what did 
you read to him, Jupe?" 

"About the fairies, sir, and the Dwarf, and the Hunch- 
back, and the Genies," she sobbed out : " And about " 

"Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Gradgrind, "that is enough. 
Never breathe a word of such destructive nonsense any 
more." 

Then Mr. Gradgrind and his daughter took Cecilia Jupe 
off with them to Stone Lodge, where she speedily grew as pale 
as wax, and as heavy-eyed as all the other victims of Mr. Grad- 
grind's practical system of training. She had not an easy 
time of it, between Mr. M'Choakemchild and Mrs. Grad- 
grind, and was not without strong impulses, in the first 
months of her probation, to run away. It hailed facts all 
day long, so very hard, and life in general was opened to her 
as such a closely ruled ciphering book, that assuredly she 
would have run away, but for only one restraint. She be- 
lieved that her father had not deserted her ; she lived in the 
hope that he would come back, and in the faith that he 
would be made the happier by her remaining where she was. 

The wretched ignorance with which Jupe clung to this 
consolation, rejecting the superior comfort of knowing on a 
sound arithmetical basis that her father was an unnatural 
vagabond, filled Mr. Gradgrind with pity. Yet, what was to 
be done ? Mr. M'Choakumchild reported that she had a 
very dense head for figures ; that, once possessed with a 
general idea of the globe, she took the smallest conceivable 
interest in its exact measurements ; that after eight weeks 
of induction into the elements of Political Economy, she had 

153 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

only yesterday returned to the question, " What is the first 
principle of this science ?" the absurd answer, " To do unto 
others as I would that they should do unto me." 

Mr. Gradgrind observed, shaking his head, that all this 
was very bad ; that it showed the necessity of infinite grind- 
ing at the mill of knowledge, and that Jupe must be "kept 
to it." So Jupe was kept to it, and became low spirited, 
but no wiser. 

" It would be a fine thing to be you, Miss Louisa ! " She 
said one night, when Louisa had endeavored to make her 
perplexities for next day something clearer to her, to which 
Louisa answered, " I don't know that. Sissy. You are more 
useful to my mother. You are pleasanter to yourself, than 
/am to myselfy 

" But, if you please. Miss Louisa," Sissy pleaded, *' I am 
— Oh so stupid ! All through school hours I make mistakes. 
To-day for instance, Mr. M'Choakumchild was explaining to 
us about Natural Prosperity." 

" National, I think it must have been," observed Louisa. 

"National Prosperity," corrected Sissy, "and he said, 
Now, this schoolroom is a Nation, and in this nation there 
are fifty millions of money. Isn't this a prosperous nation ? 
Girl number twenty. Isn't this a prosperous nation, and 
a'n't you in a thriving state ? Miss Louisa, I said I didn't 
know. I thought I couldn't know whether it was a pros- 
perous nation or not, and whether I was in a thriving state 
or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and whether 
any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. 
It was not in the figures at all," said Sissy, wiping her eyes. 

" That was a great mistake of yours," observed Louisa. 

" Yes, Miss Louisa, I know it was now. Then Mr. 
M'Choakumchild said he would try me again. And he said, 
This Schoolroom is an immense town, and in it there are a 

154 



SISSY J UPE 

million inhabitants, and only five-and-twenty are starved to 
death in the streets, in the course of a year. What is your 
remark on that proportion ? And my remark was, that I 
thought it must be just as hard upon those who were starved, 
whether the others were a million or a million million. And 
that was wrong too. Then Mr. M'Choakumchild said he 
would try me once more. And he said That in a given time 
a hundred thousand persons went to sea on long voyages, 
and only five hundred of them were drowned or burned to 
death. What is the percentage ? And I said. Miss ; " 
here Sissy fairly sobbed in confessing to her great error ; 
" I said it was nothing. Miss — to the relations and friends of 
the people who were killed — I shall never learn," said Sissy. 
" And the worst of all is, that although my poor father wished 
me so much to learn, and although I am so anxious to learn, 
because he wished me to, I am afraid I don't like it." 

Louisa stood looking at the pretty, modest head, as it 
drooped abashed before her, until it was raised again to 
glance at her face. Then she asked : 

" Did your father know so much himself, that he wished 
you to be well taught too ? " 

Sissy hesitated before replying, for this was forbidden 
ground, but Louisa insisted upon continuing the conversation. 

" No, Miss Louisa," answered Sissy, " father knows very 
little indeed. But he said mother was quite a scholar. She 
died when I was born. She was " — Sissy made the terrible 
communication, nervously—** she was a dancer. We travelled 
about the country. Father's a " — Sissy whispered the awful 
word — "a clown." 

" To make the people laugh ? " said Louisa with a nod of 
intelligence. 

"Yes. But they wouldn't laugh sometimes. Lately they 
very often wouldn't, and he used to come home despairing. 

155 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

I tried to comfort him the best I could, and father said I 
did. I used to read to him to cheer up his courage, and he 
was very fond of that. Often and often of a night, he used 
to forget all his troubles in wondering whether the Sultan 
would let the lady go on with her story, or would have her 
head cut off before it was finished." 

" And your father was always kind ? " asked Louisa. 

" Always, always ! " returned Sissy, clasping her hands. 
** Kinder and kinder than I can tell. He was angry only 
one night, and that was not at me, but Merrylegs, his per- 
forming dog. After he beat the dog, he lay down crying 
on the floor with him in his arms, and the dog licked his 
face." 

Louisa saw that she was sobbing, and going to her, kissed 
her, took her hand, and sat down beside her. 

** Finish by telling me how your father left you, Sissy. 
The blame of telling the story, if there is any blame, is 
mine, not yours." 

" Dear Miss Louisa," said Sissy, sobbing yet ; ** I came 
home from the school that afternoon, and found poor father 
just come home too, from the booth. And he sat rocking 
himself over the fire, as if he was in pain. And I said, ' have 
you hurt yourself father?' and he said, 'A little, my darling.* 
Then I saw that he was crying. The more I spoke to him, 
the more he hid his face ; and shook all over, and said noth. 
ing but ' My darling ' ; and ' My love ! ' Then he said he never 
gave any satisfaction now, that he was a shame and disgrace, 
and I should have done better without him all along. I said 
all the affectionate things to him that came into my heart, 
and presently he was quiet, and put his arms around my neck, 
and kissed me a great many times. Then he asked me to 
fetch some of the stuff he used, for the little hurt he had had, 
and to get it at the best place, which was at the other end of 

156 



SISSY JUPE 

town. Then after kissing me again, he let me go. There 
is no more to tell, Miss Louisa. I keep the nine oils ready 
for him, and I know he will come back. Every letter that 1 
see in Mr. Gradgrind's hand takes my breath away, and 
blinds my eyes, for I think it comes from father, or from Mr. 
Sleary about father." 

After this whenever Sissy dropped a curtsey to Mr. Grad- 
grind in the presence of his family, and asked if he had had 
any letter yet about her, Louisa would suspend the occupa- 
tion of the moment, and look for the reply as earnestly as 
Sissy did. And when Mr. Gradgrind answered, " No, Jupe, 
nothing of the sort," the trembling of Sissy's lips would be 
repeated in Louisa's face, and her eyes would follow Sissy 
with compassion to the door. Thus a warm friendship sprang 
up between the girls, and a similar one between the mathe- 
matical Thomas and the clown's daughter. 

Time with his innumerable horse-power presently turned 
out young Thomas Gradgrind a young man and Louisa a 
young woman. The same great manufacturer passed Sissy 
onward in his mill, and worked her up into a very pretty 
article, indeed." 

" I fear, Jupe," said Mr. Gradgrind, "that your continuance 
at the school any longer would be useless. 

" I am afraid it would, sir," Sissy answered with a curtsey. 

** I cannot disguise from you, Jupe," said Mr. Gradgrind, 
" that the result of your probation there has greatly disap- 
pointed me. You are extremely deficient in your facts. 
Your acquaintance with figures is very limited. You are 
altogether backward, and below the mark, yet I believe you 
have tried hard. I have observed you, and I can find no 
fault with you in that respect." 

** Thank you, sir. I have thought sometimes ; " Sissy 
faltered, "that perhaps I tried to learn too much, and that 

157 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

if I had asked to be allowed to try a little less, I might 
have " 

" No, Jupe, no," said Mr. Gradgrind, shaking his head. 
" No. The course you pursued, you pursued according to 
the system, and there is no more to be said about it. I can 
only suppose that the circumstances of your early life were 
too unfavorable to the development of your reasoning 
powers, and that we began too late. Still, as I have said 
already, I am disappointed." 

" I wish I could have made a better acknowledgment, sir, 
of your kindness to a poor forlorn girl who had no claim 
upon you, and of your protection of her." said Sissy, weep- 
ing. 

" Don't shed tears," added Mr. Gradgrind, " I don't com- 
plain of you. You are an affectionate, earnest, good young 
woman, and we must make that do." 

" Thank you, sir, very much," said Sissy, with a grateful 
curtsey. 

" You are useful to Mrs. Gradgrind, and you are service- 
able in the family also ; so I understand from Miss Louisa, 
and indeed, so I have observed myself. I therefore hope," 
said Mr. Gradgrind, " that you can make yourself happy in 
those relations." 

" I should have nothing to wish, sir, if " 

" I understand you," said Mr. Gradgrind ; " you refer 
to your father. I have heard from Miss Louisa that you 
still preserve that bottle. Well ! If your training in the 
science of arriving at exact results had been more success- 
ful, you would have been wiser on these points. I will say 
no more." 

He really liked Sissy too well to have contempt for her. 
Somehow or other, he had become possessed by an idea that 
there was something in this girl which could hardly be set 

158 



SISSY JUPE 

forth In a tabular form ; that there was something in her 
composition which defied the cold analysis of Fact ; that 
there was some great virtue in her loving-kindness which 
more than compensated for her deficiencies of mind. 

From that time Sissy lived at Stone Lodge on equal 
terms with the rest of the family, and after Louisa's mar- 
riage, cared for fretful Mrs. Gradgrind in her invalidism, with 
a sweet patience that endeared her to the poor woman. 
Indeed the entire household were deeply attached to Sissy, 
and, seeing the unselfishness of her daily life, even. Mr. Grad- 
grind himself was forced to acknowledge that there was a 
greater Teacher than M'Choakumchild, with a system of 
education superior to the Gradgrind system, and that the 
same great Teacher had educated the clown's daughter to a 
higher degree of usefulness and courage than the Gradgrind 
system had yet been able to produce. 

In fact, as time went on, Mr. Gradgrind was slowly dis- 
covering the flaws in his mathematical theories ; finding out 
that laws and logic can never take the place of love in the 
development of a nature, and the discovery was a bitter one 
to him. 

Despite their careful bringing-up by rule and measure, 
neither Louisa nor Thomas Gradgrind, in their maturity, 
did any credit to their father's system, and when his mis- 
takes with them became evident to the cold, proud man, and 
he realized how nearly he had wrecked their lives by 
those errors, the weight of his suffering was heavy upon 
him. Then, realizing that all the Facts in his storehouse 
of learning, could not teach him how to save his children, 
and win their love, it was to Sissy that he turned for the 
information that he needed. 

When young Thomas Gradgrind robbed the Bank with 
which he was connected, and was obliged to flee from justice, 

159 



TEN GIRLS from DICKICNS 

it was Sissy wlio saved him froin ruin. Slic sent him, with 
a note of explanation, to licr old friciul, Mr. Slcary, — whose 
whereabouts she happened to know at the time, and asked 
him to hide youni:;^ Thomas until ho should have further ad- 
vice from luM*. Then she and Louisa and Mr. drad^rind 
journeyed hurriedly to the town, where they found the 
Circus. A performance was just betj^inning when they 
arrived, and they found tlu; culprit in the rinv;, disguised 
as a black servant. 

When the perft)rmance was over, Mr. Sleary came out 
and greeted them with great heartiness, exclaiming; *' The- 
thilia, it doth uw gooil lo thee )'ou. You wath always a 
favorite with ulh, ami you've *.\oi\c. uth cnxlit thinlh the old 
timeth, I'm ihure." 

lie then suggt^sled that such membiM-s of his troupe as 
would feiuember her be called to see her, ami presently 
Siss)' found luMS(>lf ainiiltlu" familiar scenc^s of lu-r childhood, 
surrounded by an eager and affectionate grouj) of her old 
comrades. While she was busily talking with them, Mr. 
Sleary entered into a consultation with Mr. Grailgrind upon 
the subjeit of his (Mring st^n's futuit\ lie then told the 
poor, distressetl father that for Sissy's sake, and because 
Mr. Gradgrind had been so kind to her, he would help the 
culprit to escape {\o\n the country, secretly, by night. 
Then, growing confidential, he added : 

" riupiire, you don't iwcd to be told that dogth ith wonder- 
ful aniiualth." 

** riu-ir instinct," said Mr. Ciradgrind, "is sur[)rising." 

*' Whatiner you call it — and I'm bletht if I know what to call 
it" — said Sleary, " it ith athtonithing. Ith fourteen month 
ago, Th(juire, thinlhe we walh at Chethter. One morning 
there cometh into oin* Ring, by the thage door, a dog He 
had travelled a long way, he wath in very bad condition, he 

i6o 



SISSY J u r E 

walli lanu; and prdty well bliiul. II(! went round as if ho 
walli a lluu;kin|; for a child \\c. know'd ; and tlicn Ik* coiiK'd 
to nic, and thood on hith iwo foroh-^^th, weak alh h(- wath, 
and then he wa^^gcd hitii tail antl chcd Thquirc, ihaL dog 
wath Mcrrylc^lh." 

"Sissy's father's do.i; I** 

" 1 hcthiha's fatlicrth old dog. Now, 'rh([iiir(", I can take 
my oath, from my knowledge of that dog, that that man 
wath dead —and buried afore (hat dog came hack to me. 
Wc talked it over a long time, whetln-r I thould writ(> or 
not, but we agreed, No. 'J'iier(;'th nothing comfortahh; to 
tell ; why unth(atlc; lu;r minil, and mak(; her unha|)|)y ? Tho, 
whetlier her f.illier bathely detherled hei- ; or wlielh<-r he 
broke his own heart aloncr, rather than |)ull her down along 
with him, n(tver will be known, now, 'riKjuire, till W(; know 
how the dogth hndth uth out ! " 

"She kee|)s th(- bottle that hr s(;nt her for, to this hour, 
and she will believe in his affection to the last moment of 
h<T lif(^," said Mr. Cradgrind. 

" It theemth to prethent two things to a perthon, don't it ? " 
said Mr. Sleary musingly, "one, that there ith a l<)V(; in the 
world, not all thelf-interest, after all, but thomething very 
different ; t'other, that it hath a way of its own of calculating 
with ith as hard to give a name to, ath the wayth of the 
dogth ith ! " 

Mr. Ciradgrind look(Ml out of th(^ window, and mad<^ no 
reply. He was deep in thought, [uid the result oi his medi- 
tation bctcame evident from that day in a gradual broad(Miing 
of his nature and purposes. He never again attem[>ted to 
replace nature's instincts and affections by his own syst(Mn 
of education, and as the yc-ars went by he made no fiulher 
attemjjt to (htstroy Sissy's loving faith in that father who 
had left her long ago ; he (Mily tried to com[)ensat(! Iu;r for 

i6i 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

that loss as best he could ; — and for the education which led 
to the softening of his hard, cold nature, the credit belongs 
to the daughter of a clown, to whom love meant more than 
logic. 



162 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 



163 




Florence Dombey. 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 



THERE never was a child more loving or more 
lovable than Florence Dombey. There never 
was a child more ready to respond to loving 
ministrations than she, more eager to yield her- 
self in docile obedience to a parent's wish ; and 
to her mother she clung with a desperate affection at vari- 
ance with her years. 

But the sad day came when, clasped in her mother's arms, 
the little creature, with her perfectly colorless face, and 
deep, dark eyes, never moved her soft cheek from her 
mother's face, nor looked on those who stood around, nor 
shed a tear, understanding that soon she would be bereft of 
that mother's care and love. 

" Mamma ! " cried the child at last, sobbing aloud ; " Oh, 
dear mamma ! oh, dear mamma ! " 

Then, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, 
the mother drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that 
rolls round all the world, leaving Florence and the new-born 
baby brother in the father's care. 

Alas for Florence ! To that father, — the pompous head of 
the great firm of Dombey and Son — girls never showed a 
sufficient justification for their existence, and this one of his 
own was an object of supreme indifference to him ; while 
upon the tiny boy, his heir and future partner in the firm, 
he lavished all his interest, centred all his hopes and 
affection. 

165 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

After her mother's death, Florence was taken away by an 
aunt ; and a nurse, named Polly Richards, was secured for 
baby Paul. A few weeks later, as Polly was sitting in her 
own room with her young charge, the door was quietly 
opened, and a dark-eyed little girl looked in. 

" It's Miss Florence, come home from her aunt's, no 
doubt," thought Richards, who had never seen the child be- 
fore. "Hope I see you well, miss." 

"Is that my brother?" asked the child, pointing to the 
baby. 

"Yes, my pretty," answered Richards, "come and kiss 
him." 

But the child, instead of advancing, looked her earnestly in 
the face, and said : 

" What have you done with my mamma?" 

" Lord bless the little creetur ! " cried Richards. " What 
a sad question ! /done? Nothing, miss." 

" What have they done with my mamma ? " cried the child. 

" I never saw such a melting thing in all my life ! " said 
Richards. " Come nearer here ; come, my dear miss ! Don't 
be afraid of me." 

" I'm not afraid of you," said the child, drawing nearer, 
"but I want to know what they have done with my 
mamma." 

" My darling," said Richards, "come and sit down by me, 
and I'll tell you a story." 

With a quick perception that it was intended to relate to 
what she had asked, little Florence sat down on a stool at 
the nurse's feet, looking up into her face. 

" Once upon a time," said Richards, " there was a lady — 
a very good lady, and her little daughter dearly loved her — 
who, when God thought it right that it should be so, was 
taken ill, and died. Died, never to be seen again by any- 

i66 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

one on earth, and was buried in the ground where the trees 
grow." 

" The cold ground," said the child, shuddering. 

" No, the warm ground," returned Polly, seizing her 
advantage, " where the ugly little seeds turn into beautiful 
flowers, and into grass, and into corn, and I don't know 
what all besides. Where good people turn into bright 
angels, and fly away to heaven ! " 

The child who had drooped her head, raised it again, and 
sat looking at her intently. 

"So ; let me see," said Polly, not a little flurried between 
this earnest scrutiny, her desire to comfort the child, her 
sudden success, and her very slight confidence in her own 
powers. " So, when this lady died, she went to God ! and 
she prayed to Him, this lady did," said Polly, affecting her- 
self beyond measure, being heartily in earnest, " to teach 
her little daughter to be sure of that in her heart ; and to 
know that she was happy there, and loved her still ; and to 
hope and try — oh, all her life — to meet her there one day, 
never, never, never to part any more." 

" It was my mamma ! " exclaimed the child, springing up, 
and clasping her around the neck. 

" And the child's heart," said Polly, drawing her to her 
breast, " the little daughter's heart was so full of the truth 
of this, that even when she heard it from a strange nurse 
that couldn't tell it right, but was)a poor mother herself, and 
that was all, she found a comfort in it — didn't feel so lonely 
— sobbed and cried upon her bosom — took kindly to the 
baby lying in her lap — and — there, there, there ! " said Polly, 
smoothing the child's curls, and dropping tears upon her. 
"There, poor dear !" 

"Oh, well, Miss Floy! and won't your pa be angry 
neither?" cried a quick voice at the door, proceeding from a 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

short, brown womanly girl of fourteen, with little snub nose, 
and black eyes like jet Leads, " when it was tickerlerly 
given out that you wasn't to go and worrit the nurse." 

" She don't worry me," was the surprised rejoinder of 
Polly. " I'm very fond of children. Miss Florence has just 
come home, hasn't she ? " 

" Yes, Mrs. Richards, and here. Miss Floy, before you've 
been in the house a quarter of an hour, you go a-smearing 
your wet face against the expensive mourning that Mrs. 
Richards is a-wearing for your ma ! " With this remon- 
strance, young Spitfire, whose real name was Susan Nipper, 
detached the child from her new friend by a wrench — as if 
she were a tooth. But she seemed to do it more in the sharp 
exercise of her official functions, than with any deliberate 
unkindness. 

" She'll be quite happy, now that she's come home again," 
said Polly, nodding to her with a smile, "and will be so 
pleased to see her dear papa to-night." 

" Lork, Mrs. Richards!" cried Miss Nipper, taking up 
her words with a jerk, " Don't ! See her dear papa, indeed ! 
I should like to see her do it ! Her pa's a deal too wrapped 
up in somebody else ; and before there was somebody else 
to be wrapped up in, she never was a favorite. Girls are 
thrown away in this house, I assure you." 

"You surprise me," cried Polly. "Hasn't Mr. Dombey 
seen her since " 

" No," interrupted Miss Nipper. " Not once since. And 
he hadn't hardly set his eyes upon her before that, for 
months and months, and I don't think he would know her 
for his own child if he was to meet her in the streets to- 
morrow. Oh, there's a Tartar within a hundred miles of 
here, I can tell you, Mrs. Richards!" said Susan Nipper; 
" Wish you good morning, Mrs. Richards. Now Miss Floy, 

1 68 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

you come along with me, and don't go hanging back like a 
naughty wicked child, that judgments is no example to, 
don't." 

In spite of being thus adjured, and in spite also of some 
hauling on the part of Susan Nipper, little Florence broke 
away, and kissed her new friend affectionately, but Susan 
Nipper made a charge at her, and swept her out of the 
room. 

When Polly Richards was left alone, her heart was sore 
for the motherless little girl, and she determined to devise 
some means of having Florence beside her lawfully and 
without rebellion. An opening happened to present itself 
that very night. 

She had been rung down into the conservatory, as usual, 
and was walking about with the baby in her arms, when Mr. 
Dombey camie up and stopped her. 

'*He looks thriving," said Mr. Dombey, glancing with 
great interest at Paul's tiny face, which she uncovered for 
his observation. " They give you everything that you want 
I hope?" 

"Oh, yes, thank you, sir;" 

She hesitated so, however, that Mr. Dombey stopped 
again and looked at her inquiringly. 

" I believe nothing is so good for making children lively, 
sir, as seeing other children playing about them," observed 
Polly, taking courage. 

" I think I mentioned to you, Richards, when you came 
here," said Mr. Dombey, with a frown ; " that I wished you 
to see as little of your family as possible. You can con- 
tinue your walk, if you please." 

With that he disappeared into an inner room, and Polly 
felt that she had fallen into disgrace without the least ad- 
vancement of her purpose ; but next night when she came 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

down, he called her to him. " If you really think that 
kind of society is good for the child," he said sharply, as if 
there had been no interval since she proposed it, "where's 
Miss Florence?" 

*' Nothing could be better than Miss Florence, sir," said 
Polly eagerly, "but I understood from her little maid that 
they were not to — " But Mr. Dombey rang the bell, and 
gave his orders before she had a chance to finish the sen- 
tence. 

" Tell them always to let Miss Florence be with Richards 
when she chooses," he commanded ; and, the iron being hot, 
Richards striking on it boldly, requested that the child 
might be sent down at once to make friends with her little 
brother. 

When Florence timidly presented herself, had Mr. Dom- 
bey looked towards her with a father's eye, he might have 
read in her keen glance the passionate desire to run to him, 
crying, " Oh, father, try to love me, — there is no one else " ; 
the dread of a repulse ; the fear of being too bold and of 
offending him. But he saw nothing of this. He saw her 
pause at the door and look towards him, and he saw no 
more. 

" Come here, Florence," said her father coldly. "Have 
you nothing to say to me ? " 

The tears that stood in her eyes as she raised them quickly 
to his face, were frozen by the expression it wore. She 
looked down again, and put out her trembling hand, which 
Mr. Dombey took loosely in his own. 

" There ! be a good girl," he said, patting her on the head, 
and regarding her with a disturbed and doubtful look, "go 
to Richards ! go ! " 

His little daughter hesitated for another instant, as 
though she would have clung about him still, or had some 

170 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

lingering hope that he might raise her in his arms and kiss 
her. But he dropped her hand and turned away. Still 
Polly persevered, and managed so well with little Paul as to 
make it very plain that he was all the livelier for his sister's 
company. When it was time for Florence to go to bed, the 
nurse urged her to say good night to her father, but the 
child hesitated, and Mr. Dombey called from the inner room ; 
" It doesn't matter. You can let her come and go without 
regarding me." 

The child shrunk as she listened, and was gone before her 
humble friend looked around again. 

Just around the corner from Mr. Dombey's office was the 
little shop of a nautical-instrument maker whose name was 
Solomon Gills. The stock-in-trade of this old gentleman 
comprised chronometers, barometers, telescopes, compasses, 
charts, maps, and every kind of an instrument used in the 
working of a ship's course, or the keeping of a ship's reckon- 
ing, or the prosecuting of a ship's discovery. Old prints of 
ships hung in frames upon the walls ; outlandish shells, sea- 
weeds and mosses decorated the chimney-piece ; the little 
wainscoted parlor was lighted by a skylight, like a cabin, 
The shop itself seemed almost to become a sea-going ship- 
shape concern, wanting only good sea room, in the event of 
an unexpected launch, to work its way securely to any desert 
island in the world. 

Here Solomon Gills lived, In skipper-like state, all alone 
with his nephew, Walter; a boy of fourteen, who looked 
quite enough like a midshipman to carry out the prevailing 
idea. 

It is half past five o'clock, and an autumn afternoon. Sol- 
omon Gills is wondering where Walter is, when a voice 
exclaims, ** Halloa, Uncle Sol !" and the instrument-maker, 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

turning briskly around, sees a cheerful-looking, merry boy 
fresh with running home in the rain ; fair-faced, bright-eyed 
and curly-haired. 

" Well, uncle, how have you got on without me all day ? 
Is dinner ready ? I'm so hungry." 

" As to getting on," said Solomon, good-naturedly, "It 
would be odd if I couldn't get on without a young dog like 
you a great deal better than with you. As to dinner being 
ready, it's been waiting for you this half-hour. As to being 
hungry, I am ! " 

** Come along, then, uncle ! " cried the boy, and Uncle 
Sol and his nephew were speedily engaged on a fried sole, 
with a prospect of steak to follow. 

" Now," said the old man eagerly, " Let's hear something 
about the Firm." 

" Oh ! there's not much to be told, uncle," said the boy, 
plying his knife and fork. " When Mr. Dombey came in, 
he walked up to my seat — I wish he wasn't so solemn and 
stiff, uncle — and told me you had spoken to him about me, 
and that he had found me employment in the House accord- 
ingly, and that I was expected to be attentive and punctual, 
and then he went away. I thought he didn't seem to like me 
much." 

"You mean, I suppose." observed the instrument-maker, 
" that you didn't seem to like him much." 

"Well, uncle," returned the boy laughing, "perhaps so; I 
never thought of that." 

Solomon looked a little graver as he finished his dinner, 
and glanced from time to time at the boy's bright face. When 
dinner was done, he went down into a little cellar, and re- 
turned with a bottle covered with dust and dirt. 

" Why, uncle Sol ! " said the boy, " What are you about ? 
that's the wonderful Madeira — there's only one more bottle ! " 

172 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

Uncle Sol nodded his head, and having drawn the cork 
in solemn silence, filled two glasses, and set the bottle and a 
third clean glass on the table. 

"You shall drink the other bottle, Wally," he said, 
"When you come to good fortune ; when you are a thriving, 
respected, happy man ; when the start in life you have made 
to-day shall have brought you — as I pray Heaven it may ! — 
to a smooth part of the course you have to run, my child. 
My love to you ! " 

They clinked their glasses together, and were deep in 
conversation, when an addition to the little party made its 
appearance, in the shape of a gentleman with a hook instead 
of a hand attached to his right wrist ; very bushy black eye- 
brows ; and a thick stick in his left hand, covered all over 
(like his nose) with knobs. He wore a loose black silk 
handkerchief round his neck, and such a very large shirt- 
collar that it looked like a small sail over his wide suit of 
blue. He was evidently the person for whom the spare 
wineglass was intended, and evidently knew it ; for having 
taken off his coat, and hung up his hard glazed hat, he 
brought a chair to where the clean glass was, and sat him- 
self down behind it. He was usually addressed as Captain, 
this visitor ; and had been a pilot, or a skipper, or a priva- 
teer'sman, or all three perhaps ; and was a very salt looking 
man indeed. His face brightened as he shook hands with 
uncle and nephew ; but he seemed to be of a laconic dispo- 
sition, and merely said : " How goes it ? " 

"All well," said Mr. Gills, pushing the bottle towards the 
new-comer. Captain Cuttle, who thereupon proceeded to fill 
his glass, and the wonderful Madeira loosened his tongue to 
the extent of giving utterance to a prodigous oration for 
Walter's benefit. 

'* Come," cried Solomon Gills, "we must finish the bottle." 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" Stand by ! " said Captain Cuttle, filling his glass again. 
" Give the boy some more." 

" Yes," said Sol, " a little more. We'll finish the bottle 
to the House, — Walter's house. Why, it may be his house 
one of these days, in part. Who knows ? Sir Richard 
Whittington married his master's daughter." 

" Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London, and 
when you are old, you will never depart from it," interposed 
the Captain. " Wal'r, overhaul the book, my lad ! " 

" And although Mr. Dombey hasn't a daughter — " Sol 
began. 

"Yes, yes, he has, uncle," said the boy, reddening and 
laughing. " I know he has. Some of them were talking 
about it in the office to-day. And they do say that he's 
taken a dislike to her, and that she's left unnoticed among 
the servants, while he thinks of no one but his son. That's 
what they say. Of course I don't know." 

" He knows all about her already, you see," said the In- 
strument-maker. 

** Nonsense, uncle," cried the boy reddening again ; 
*' how can I help hearing what they tell me ? " 

"The son's a little in our way at present, I'm afraid," 
added the old man, humoring the joke. " Nevertheless, 
we'll drink to him," pursued Sol. " So, here's to Dombey 
and Son." 

" Oh, very well, uncle," said the boy merrily. ** Since you 
have introduced the mention of her, and have said that I 
know all about her, I shall make bold to amend the toast. 
So, — here's to Dombey — and Son — and Daughter ! " 

Meanwhile, in Mr. Dombey's mansion, baby Paul was 
thriving under the watchful care of Polly Richards, Mr. Dom- 
bey, and Mr. Dombey's friends, and the day of his christening 
arrived. On that important occasion, the baby's excitement 

174 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

was so great that no one could soothe him until Florence 
was summoned. As she hid behind her nurse, he followed 
her with his eyes ; and when she peeped out with a merry cry 
to him, he sprang up and crowed lustily — laughing outright 
when she ran in upon him, and seeming to fondle her curls 
with his tiny hands while she smothered him with kisses. 

Was Mr. Dombey pleased to see this ? He did not show- 
it. If any sunbeam stole into the room to light the chil- 
dren at their play, it never reached his face. He looked on 
so coldly that the warm light vanished, even from the laugh- 
ing eyes of little Florence when, at last, they happened to 
meet his. 

The contemplation of Paul in his christening robe made 
his nurse yearn for a sight of her own first-born, although 
this was a pleasure strictly forbidden by Mr. Dombey's 
orders. But the longing so overpowered her that she con- 
sulted Miss Nipper as to the possibility of gratifying it, and 
that young woman, eager herself for an expedition, urged 
Polly to visit her home. So, the next morning the two 
nurses set out together : Richards carrying Paul, and Susan 
leading little Florence by the hand, and giving her such 
jerks and pokes as she considered it wholesome to adminis- 
ter. Then for a brief half-hour, Polly enjoyed the longed- 
for pleasure of being again in the bosom of her family, but 
the visit had a sad ending, for on the way back, passing 
through a crowded thoroughfare the little party became sep- 
arated. A thundering alarm of Mad Bull ! was raised. 
With a wild confusion of people running up and down, and 
shouting, and wheels running over them, and boys fighting, 
and mad bulls coming up, and the nurse in the midst of all 
these dangers, being torn to pieces, Florence screamed and 
ran. She ran until she was exhausted, then found with a sen- 
sation of terror not to be described, that she was quite alone. 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

" Susan ! Susan ! " cried Florence. " Oh, where are they ?" 

'* Where are they ? " said an old woman, hobbling across 
from the opposite side of the road. " Why did you run away 
from 'em ? " 

" I was frightened," answered Florence. " I didn't know 
what I did. I thought they were with me. Where are 
they ? " 

The old woman took her by the wrist, and said, " I'll show 
you." 

She was a very ugly old woman indeed, miserably dressed, 
and carried some skins over her arm. Florence was afraid 
of her, and looked, hesitating, up the street. It was a soli- 
tary place, and there was no one in it but herself and the 
old woman. 

" You needn't be frightened now," said the old woman, 
still holding her tight. " Come along with me." 

"I — I don't know you. What's your name?" asked 
Florence. 

" Mrs. Brown," said the old woman, "Good Mrs. Brown. 
Susan ain't far ojff," said Good Mrs. Brown, " and the 
others are close to her, and nobody's hurt." 

The child shed tears of delight on hearing this, and ac- 
companied the old woman willingly. They had not gone 
far, when they stopped before a shabby little house in a 
dirty little lane. Opening the door with a key she took 
out of her pocket, Mrs. Brown pushed the child into a back 
room, where there was a great heap of rags lying on the 
floor, a heap of bones, and a heap of sifted dust. .But there 
was no furniture at all, and the walls and ceiling were quite 
black. 

The child became so terrified, that she was stricken speech- 
less, and looked as though about to swoon. 

•' Now, don't be a young mule," said Good Mrs. Brown, re- 

176 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

viving her with a shake. " I'm not a' going to keep you, 
even above an hour. Don't vex me. If you don't, I tell 
you, I won't hurt you. But if you do, I'll kill you. I could 
have you killed at any time — even if you was in your own 
bed at home. Now let's know who you are, and what you 
are, and all about it." 

The old woman's threats and promises, and Florence's 
habit of being quiet, and repressing what she felt, enabled 
her to tell her little history. Mrs. Brown listened atten- 
tively until she had finished. 

"I want that pretty frock, Miss Dombey," said Good Mrs. 
Brown, "and that little bonnet, and a petticoat or two, and 
those shoes. Miss Dombey, and anything else you can 
spare. Come ! take 'em off." 

Florence obeyed as fast as her trembling hands could 
allow, keeping all the while, a frightened eye on Mrs. Brown, 
who examined each article of apparel at leisure, and seemed 
tolerably well satisfied with their quality and value ; she then 
produced a worn-out girl's cloak, and the crushed remnants 
of a girl's bonnet, as well as other tattered things. In this 
dainty raiment she instructed Florence to dress herself, and 
as this seemed a prelude to her release, the child complied as 
fast as possible. Mrs. Brown then resumed her seat on the 
bones, and smoked a very short, black pipe, after which she 
gave the child a rabbit-skin to carry, that she might appear 
like her ordinary companion, and led her forth into the 
streets ; but she cautioned her, with threats of deadly ven- 
geance in case of disobedience, to go directly to her father's 
office in the city, also to wait at the street corner where she 
would be left, until the clock struck three, and these direc- 
tions Florence promised faithfully to observe. 

At length Mrs. Brown left her changed and ragged little 
friend at a corner, where, true to her promise, she remained 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

until the steeple rang out three o'clock, when after often 
looking over her shoulder, lest the all-powerful spies of Mrs. 
Brown should take offence at that, she hurried off as fast as 
she could in her slipshod shoes, holding the rabbit-skin 
tight in her hand. 

Tired of walking, stunned by the noise and confusion, 
anxious for her brother and the nurses, terrified by what she 
had undergone, and what was yet before her, Florence once 
or twice could not help stopping and crying bitterly, but few 
people noticed her, in the garb she wore, or if they did, 
believed that she was tutored to excite compassion, and 
passed on. It was late in the afternoon when she peeped 
into a kind of wharf, and asked a stout man there if he could 
tell her the way to Dombey & Son's. 

The man looked attentively at her, then called another 
man, who ran up an archway, and very soon returned with a 
blithe-looking boy who he said was in Mr. Dombey's em- 
ploy. 

Hearing this, Florence felt re-assured ; ran eagerly up to 
him, and caught his hand in both of hers. 

** I'm lost, if you please ! " said Florence. " I was lost this 
morning, a long way from here — and I have had my own 
clothes taken away since — and my name is Florence Dom- 
bey, and, oh dear, take care of me, if you please ! " sobbed 
Florence, giving full vent to her childish feelings. 

" Don't cry. Miss Dombey," said young Walter Gay, the 
nephew of Solomon Gills, in a transport of enthusiasm. 
" What a wonderful thing for me that I am here. You are 
as safe now as if you were guarded by a whole boat's crew 
of picked men from a man-of-war. Oh, don't cry ! " 

** I won't cry any more," said Florence. " I'm only crying 
for joy." 

" Crying for joy !" thought Walter, "and I'm the cause 

178 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

of it. Come along. Miss Dombey, let me see the villain who 
will molest you now ! " 

So Walter, looking immensely fierce, led off Florence 
looking very happy ; and as Mr. Dombey's office was closed 
for the night, he led her to his uncle's, to leave her there 
while he should go and tell Mr. Dombey that she was safe, 
and bring her back some clothes. 

" Halloa, Uncle Sol," cried Walter, bursting into the shop ; 
" Here's a wonderful adventure ! Here's Mr. Dombey's 
daughter lost in the streets, and robbed of her clothes by an 
old witch of a woman — found by me — brought home to our 
parlor to rest — Here — just help me lift the little sofa 
near the fire, will you, uncle Sol ? — Cut some dinner for her, 
will you, uncle ; throw those shoes under the grate. Miss 
Florence — put your feet on the fender to dry — how damp 
they are ! — Here's an adventure, uncle, eh ? — God bless my 
soul, how hot I am ! " 

Solomon Gills was quite as hot, by sympathy ; and in ex- 
cessive bewilderment, he patted Florence's head, pressed her 
to eat, pressed her to drink, rubbed the soles of her feet 
with his pocket-handkerchief, heated at the fire, followed his 
locomotive nephew with his eyes and ears, and had no clear 
perception of anything except that he was being constantly 
knocked against, and tumbled over by that excited young 
gentleman, as he darted about the room, attempting to 
accomplish twenty things at once, and doing nothing at all. 

"Here, wait a minute, uncle." he continued, "till I run 
upstairs and get another jacket on, and then I'll be off. I 
say, uncle, isn't this an adventure ?" 

" My dear boy," said Solomon, " it is the most extra 
ordinary " 

" No, but do, uncle, please — do, Miss Florence — dinner, 
you know, uncle." 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

"Yes, yes, yes," cutting instantly into a leg of mutton, as 
if he were catering for a giant. ** I'll take care of her, 
Wally ! Pretty dear ! Famished, of course. You go 
and get ready. Lord bless me ! Sir Richard Whittington, 
thrice Mayor of London !" 

While Walter was preparing to leave, Florence, overcome 
by fatigue, had sunk into a doze before the fire and when 
the boy returned, slie was sleeping peacefully. 

" That's capital ! " he whispered, " Don't wake her, uncle 
Sol ! " 

" No, no," answered Solomon, " Pretty child ! " 

"/Vt'//y, indeed!" cried Walter, "I never saw such a 
face ! Now I'm off." 

Arriving at Mr. Dombey's house, and breathlessly 
announcinof his errand to the servant, Walter was shown into 
the library, where he confronted Mr. Dombey. 

"Oh! beg your pardon, sir," said Walter, rushing up to 
him ; "but I'm happy to say, it's all right, sir. Miss Dom- 
bey's found ! " 

"I told you she would certainly be found, " said Mr.Dom- 
bey calmly, to the others in the room. " Let the servants 
know that no further steps are necessary. This boy 
who brings the information is young Gay from the office. 
How was my daughter found, sir? I know how she was 
lost." Here he looked majestically at Richards. "But 
how was she found ? Who found her?" 

It was quite out of Walter's power to be coherent, but he 
rendered himself as explanatory as he could, in his breath- 
less state, and told why he had come alone. 

"You hear this, girl?" said Mr. Dombey sternly, to 
Susan Nipper. "Take what is necessary and return im* 
mediately with this young man to fetch Miss Florence home. 
Gay, you will be rewarded to-morrow. " 

1 80 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

" Oh ! thank you, sir, "said Walter. " You are very kind. 
I'm sure I was not thinking of any reward sir." 

" You are a boy," said Mr. Dombey, ahnost fiercely ; ** and 
what you think of, or what you affect to think of, is of little 
consequence. You have done well, sir. Don't undo it." 

Returning to his uncle's with Miss Nipper, Walter found 
that Florence, much refreshed by sleep, had dined and come 
to be on terms of perfect confidence and ease with old Sol. 
Miss Nipper caught her in her arms, and made a very hys- 
terical meeting of it. Then, converting the parlor into a 
private tiring-room, she dressed her in proper clothes, and 
presently led her forth to say farewell. 

" Good-night," said Florence to the elder man, " you 
have been very good to me." 

Uncle Sol was quite delighted, and kissed her like her 
grandfather. 

"Good-night, Walter," she said, "I'll never forget you, 
No ! Indeed I never will. Good-by ! " 

The entrance of the lost child at home made a slight sen- 
sation, but not much. Mr. Dombey kissed her once upon 
the forehead, and cautioned her not to wander anywhere 
again with treacherous attendants. He then dismissed the 
culprit Polly Richards, from his service, telling her to leave 
immediately, and it was a dagger in the haughty father's 
heart to see Florence holding to her dress, and crying to 
her not to go. Not that he cared to whom his daughter 
turned, or from whom turned away. The swift, sharp 
agony struck through him as he thought of what his son 
might do. 

His son cried lustily that night, at all events ; and the 
next day a new nurse, Wickam by name, took Polly's place. 

She lavished every care upon little Paul, yet all her vigi- 
lance could not make him a thriving boy. When he was 

i8i 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

nearly five years old, he was a pretty little fellow, but so 
very delicate that Mr. Dombey became alarmed about him, 
and decided to send him at once to the seashore. 

So to Brighton, Paul and Florence and nurse Wickam 
went, and boarded with a certain Mrs. Pipchin there. On 
Saturdays Mr. Dombey came down to a hotel near by, and 
Paul and Florence would go and have tea with him, and 
every day they spent their time upon the sands, and Flor- 
ence was always content when Paul was happy. 

While the children were thus living at Brighton, a war- 
rant was served upon old Solomon Gills, by a broker, 
because of a payment overdue upon a bond debt. Old Sol 
was overcome by the extent of this calamity, which he could 
not avert, and Walter hurried out to fetch Captain Cuttle 
to discuss the situation. To the lad's dismay, the Captain 
insisted upon applying to Mr. Dombey at once for the 
necessary loan which would help old Sol out of his difficulty. 
So Walter proceeded with him to Brighton as fast as coach 
horses could carry them, and on a Sunday morning while 
Mr. Dombey was at breakfast, Florence came running in, 
her face suffused with a bright color, and her eyes sparkling 
joyfully, and cried : 

" Papa ! Papa ! here's Walter, and he won't come in ! " 

"Who?" cried Mr. Dombey, "What does she mean, — 
what is this?" 

"Walter, Papa," said Florence timidly; "who found me 
when I was lost ! " 

"Tell the boy to come in," said Mr. Dombey. "Now, 
Gay, what is the matter ? " 

Tremblingly Walter Gay stood in the presence of his 
proud employer, and made known his uncle's distress, and 
when he ceased speaking. Captain Cuttle stepped forward, 
and clearing a space among the breakfast cups at Mr. Dom- 

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FLORENCE DOMBEY 

bey's elbow, produced a silver watch, ready money to the 
amount of thirteen pounds and half a crown, two teaspoons 
and a pair of battered sugar-tongs, and piling them up into 
a heap, that they might look as precious as possible, said : 

" Haifa loaf is better than no bread, and the same remark 
holds good with crumbs. There's a few. Annuity of one 
hundred pounds p'rannum also ready to be made over ! " 

Florence had listened tearfully to Walter's sad tale and to 
the captain's offer of his valuables, and little Paul now tried 
to comfort her ; but Mr. Dombey, watching them, saw only 
his son's wistful expression, thought only of his pleasure, 
and after taking the child on his knee, and having a brief 
consulation with him, he announced pompously that Master 
Paul would lend the money to Walter's uncle. Young Gay 
tried to express his gratitude for this favor, but Mr. Dombey 
stopped him short. Then, sweeping the captain's property 
from him, he added, " Have the goodness to take these 
things away, sir ! " 

Captain Cuttle was so much struck by the magnanimity 
of Mr. Dombey, in refusing treasures lying heaped up to his 
hand, that when he had deposited them in his pockets again, 
he could not refrain from grasping that gentleman's right 
hand in his own solitary left, before following Walter out of 
the room, and Mr. Dombey shivered at his touch. 

Florence was running after them, to send some message 
to old Sol, when Mr. Dombey called her back, bidding her 
stay where she was, and so the episode ended. 

When the children had been nearly twelve months at Mrs. 
Pipchin's, Mr. Dombey decided to send Paul to Dr. Blim- 
ber's boarding-school where his education would be properly 
begun. Accordingly, Paul began his studies in that hot-bed 
of learning, where the dreamy, delicate child with his quaint 
ways soon became a favorite with teachers and pupils. 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

The process of being educated was difficult for one so young 
and frail, and he might have sunk beneath the burden of his 
tasks but for looking forward to the weekly visit to his 
sister at Mrs. Pipchin's. 

Oh, Saturdays ! Oh, happy Saturdays ! When Florence 
always came for him at noon, and never would in any 
weather stay away : these Saturdays were Sabbaths for at 
least two little Christians among all the Jews, and did the 
holy Sabbath work of strengthening and knitting up a 
brother's and a sister's love. 

Seeing her brother's difficulty with his lessons, Florence 
procured books similar to his, and sat down at night to track 
his footsteps through the thorny ways of learning ; and being 
naturally quick, and taught by that most wonderful of masters. 
Love, it was not long before she gained upon Paul's heels, 
and caught, and passed him. 

And high was her reward, when one Saturday evening she 
sat down by his side and made all that was so dark, clear and 
plain before him. It was nothing but a startled look in Paul's 
wan face — a flush — a smile — and then a close embrace — but 
God knows how her heart leaped up at this rich payment for 
her trouble. 

" Oh, Floy !" he cried, " how I love you ! " 

He said no more about it, but all that evening sat close 
by her, very quiet ; and in the night he called out from his 
little room, three or four times, that he loved her. Regularly 
after that Florence sat down with him on Saturday night, and 
assisted him through so much as they could anticipate to- 
gether of his next week's work. 

And so the months went by, until the midsummer vacation 
was near at hand, and the great party which was to celebrate 
the breaking up of school, was about to come off. Some 
weeks before this, Paul had had a fainting turn, and had not 

184 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

recovered his strength, in consequence of which, he was en- 
joying complete rest from lessons, and it was clear to every- 
one, that, once at home, he would never come back to Dr. 
Blimber's or to any school again, and to no one was the sad 
truth more evident than to Florence. 

On the evening of the great party Florence came, looking 
so beautiful in her simple ball dress, with her fresh flowers 
in her hand, that she was the admiration of all the young 
gentlemen of the school, and particularly of Mr. Toots, the 
head boy ; a simple youth with an engaging manner, and the 
habit of blushing and chuckling when addressed. Mr. Toots 
had made Paul his especial favorite and charge, and was well 
repaid for his devotion to the boy by the gracious appreciation 
which Florence showed him for it, and it was to the care of 
Mr. Toots that Paul, when leaving, intrusted the dog Dio- 
genes, who had never received a friend into his confidence 
before Paul had become his companion. 

The brother and sister remained together for a time at 
Mrs. Pipchin's, then went back to their home in London, 
where little Paul's life ebbed away, and his father's hopes 
were crushed by the blow. 

There was a hush through Mr. Dombey's great mansion 
when the child was gone, and Florence ; — was she so alone 
in the bleak world that nothing else remained to her except 
her little maid ? Nothing. 

At first, when the house subsided into its accustomed 
course she could do nothing but weep, and wander up and 
down, and sometimes, in a sudden pang of desolate remem- 
brance, fly to her own chamber, lay her face down on her 
bed, and know no consolation. But it is not in the nature 
of pure love to burn so fiercely and unkindly long. Soon, 
in the midst of the dismal house, her low voice in the twi- 
light slowly touched an old air to which she had so often 

185 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

listened with Paul's head upon her arm. And after that, 
and when it was quite dark, a little strain of music trembled 
in the room, repeated often, in the shadowy solitude ; and 
broken murmurs of the strain still trembled on the keys when 
the sweet voice was hushed in tears. 

One day Florence was amazed at receiving a visit from Mr. 
Toots, who entered the room with much hesitation, and, with 
a series of chuckles, laughs, and blushes, informed her that 
he had brought her little Paul's pet, the dog Diogenes, as a 
companion in her loneliness. 

" He ain't a lady's dog, you know," said Mr. Toots, "but 
I hope you won't mind that. If you would like to have him, 
he's at the door." 

In fact, Diogenes was at that moment staring through the 
window of a hackney cabriolet, into which he had been en- 
snared on a false pretence of rats among the straw. Sooth 
to say, he was as unlike a lady's dog as dog might be ; and 
in his gruff anxiety to get out, gave short yelps, and over- 
balancing himself by the Intensity of his efforts, tumbled 
down into the straw, and then sprung up panting again, put- 
ting out his tongue, as if he had come express to a Dispen- 
sary to be examined for his health. 

But though Diogenes was as ridiculous a dog as one would 
meet with on a summer's day ; a blundering, ill-favored, 
clumsy, bullet-headed dog, continually acting on the wrong 
idea that there was an enemy In the neighborhood whom It 
was meritorious to bark at ; and though he was far from 
good-tempered, and certainly was not clever, and had hair 
all over his eyes, and a comical nose, and an Inconsistent 
tail, and a gruff voice, — he was dearer to Florence, In virtue 
of Paul's parting remembrance of him, and that request 
that he might be taken care of, than the most valuable and 
beautiful of his kind. So dear, indeed, was this same ugly 

1 86 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

Diogenes, and so welcome to her, that she kissed the hand 
of Mr. Toots in her gratitude. And when Diogenes, re- 
leased, came tearing up the stairs and, bouncing into the 
room, dived under all the furniture, and wound a long iron 
chain that dangled from his neck round legs of chairs and 
tables, and then tugged at it until his eyes nearly started 
out of his head ; and when he growled at Mr. Toots, who 
affected familiarity, Florence was as pleased with him as if 
he had been a miracle of discretion. 

Mr. Toots was so overjoyed by the success of his present, 
and so delighted to see Florence bending over Diogenes, 
smoothing his coarse back with her little delicate hand — 
Diogenes graciously allowing it from the first moment of 
their acquaintance — that he felt it difficult to take leave, and 
would, no doubt have been a much longer time in making 
up his mind to do so, if he had not been assisted by Dio- 
genes himself, who suddenly took it into his head to bay at 
Mr. Toots, and to make short runs at him with his mouth 
open. Not exactly seeing his way to the end of these dem- 
onstrations, Mr. Toot with chuckles, lapsed out of the door, 
and got away. 

" Come, then, Di ! Dear Di ! Make friends with your 
new mistress. Let us love each other, Di !" said Florence, 
fondling his shaggy head. And Di, the rough and gruff, as 
if his hairy hide were pervious to the tear that dropped upon 
it, and his dog's heart melted as it fell, put his nose up to 
her face and swore fidelity. 

A banquet was immediately provided for him, and when 
he had eaten and drunk his fill, he went to Florence, rose 
up on his hind legs, with his awkward fore-paws on her 
shoulders, licked her face and hands, nestled his great head 
against her heart, and wagged his tail till he was tired. 
Finally, he coiled himself up at her feet, and went to sleep. 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

That same night Susan Nipper told her mistress that Mr, 
Dombey was to leave home the next day for a trip, — which 
piece of news filled Florence with dismay, and she sat mus- 
ing sadly until midnight. 

She was little more than a child in years, — not yet four- 
teen — and the loneliness and gloom of such an hour in the 
great house might have set an older fancy brooding on 
vague terrors. But her innocent imagination was too full of 
one theme to admit them. Nothing wandered in her 
thought but love ; a wandering love indeed, and cast away, 
but turning always to her father. 

She could not go to bed, without making her nightly pil- 
grimage to his door. The moment she touched it she found 
that it was open, and there was a light within. The first 
impulse of the timid child — and she yielded to it — was to 
retire swiftly. A next, to go back, and to enter. She 
turned back, urged on by the love within her, and glided in. 

Her father sat at his old table, in the middle of the room. 
His face was turned towards her. It looked worn and 
dejected, and in the loneliness surrounding him, there was 
an appeal to Florence that struck home, but when she spoke 
to him, the sternness of his glance and words so overcame 
her that she shrank away, — and sobbing, silently ascended to 
her room again. 

Diogenes was broad awake, and waiting for his little mis- 
tress. 

" Oh, Di ! Oh, dear Di ! Love me for his sake ! " 

Diogenes already loved her for his own, and did not care 
how much he showed it. So he made himself vastly ridicu- 
lous by performing a variety of uncouth bounces, and con- 
cluded, when poor Florence was at last asleep, by scratching 
open her bedroom door ; rolling up his bed into a pillow ; 
lying down on the boards at the full length of his tether 

i88 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

with his head toward her ; and looking lazily at her, upside 
down, out of the tops of his eyes, until, from winking and 
blinking, he fell asleep himself, and dreamed with gruff barks, 
of his enemy. 

About this time Walter Gay was informed by Mr. Dom- 
bey of his appointment to a junior position in the firm's 
counting house in the Barbadoes. The boy ever since he 
first saw Florence had thought of her with admiration and 
compassion, pitying her loneliness ; and now when he was 
about to cross the ocean, his first thought was to seek audi- 
ence with her little maid, to tell her of his going, to say to 
her that his uncle had had an interest in Miss Dombey ever 
since the night when she was lost, and always wished her 
well and happy, and always would be proud and glad to 
serve her, if she should need that service. 

Upon receiving the message, Florence hastened with 
Susan Nipper to the old Instrument-maker's Shop, and they 
passed into the parlor so suddenly that Uncle Sol, in surprise 
at seeing them, sprang out of his own chair and nearly tum- 
bled over another, as he exclaimed, " Miss Dombey ! " 

" Is it possible ! " cried Walter, starting up in his turn. 
" Here ! " 

" Yes," said Florence, advancing to him. " I was afraid 
you might be going away, and hardly thinking of me. And, 
Walter, there is something I wish to say to you before you 
go, and you must call me Florence, if you please, and not 
speak like a stranger. My dear brother before he died said 
that he was very fond of you, and said, ' remember Walter ' ; 
and if you will be a brother to me, Walter, now that I have 
none on earth, I'll be your sister all my life, and think of 
you like one, wherever we may be ! " 

In her sweet simplicity, she held out both her hands, and 
Walter, taking them, stooped down and touched the tearful 

189 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

face ; and it seemed to him in doing so, that he responded 
to her innocent appeal beside the dead child's bed. 

After Walter's departure, Florence lived alone as before, 
in the great dreary house, and the blank walls looked down 
upon her with a vacant stare, as if they had a Gorgon-like 
mind to stare her youth and beauty into stone. 

No magic dwelling-place in magic story, shut up in the 
heart of a thick wood, was ever more solitary and deserted 
to the fancy than was her father's mansion in its grim reality. 
The spell upon it was more wasting than the spell which used 
to set enchanted houses sleeping once upon a time, but left 
their waking freshness unimpaired. But Florence bloomed 
there, like the King's fair daughter in the story. Her 
books, her music, and her daily teachers were her only real 
companions, except Susan Nipper and Diogenes, and she 
lived within the circle of her innocent pursuits and thoughts, 
and nothinof harmed her. She could g-o down to her father's 
rooms now without fear of repulse. She could put every- 
thing in order for him, binding little nosegays for his table, 
changing them as they withered, and he did not come back, 
preparing something for him every day, and leaving some 
timid mark of her presence near his usual seat. Waking in 
the night, perhaps, she would tremble at the thought of his 
coming home and angrily rejecting it, and would hurry down 
and bring it away. At another time she would only lay 
her face upon his desk, and leave a kiss there, and a tear. 

Still no one knew of this. Her father did not know — she 
held it from that time — how much she loved him. She was 
very young, and had no mother, and had never learned, by 
some fault or misfortune, how to express to him that she 
loved him. She would try to gain that art in time, and 
win him to a better knowledge of his only child. 

Thus Florence lived alone in the deserted house, and day 

190 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

succeeded day in a monotony of loneliness until yielding to 
Susan Nipper's constant request Florence consented to pay 
a visit to some friends who lived at Fulham on the Thames. 
Just at this time she learned that Walter's ship was over- 
due, and no news had been received of her, and, her mind 
filled with sad forebodings, she went to see old Sol. She 
found him tearful and desolate, broken down by the weight 
of his anxiety, refusing to be comforted even by the hopeful 
words of Captain Cuttle. So it was with a heavy heart that 
she went to pay her visit, accompanied by her little maid. 

There were some other children staying at the Skettleses. 
Children who were frank and happy, with fathers and 
mothers. Children who had no restraint upon their love, 
and showed it freely. Florence thoughtfully observed 
them, sought to find out from them what simple art they 
knew, and she knew not ; how she could be taught by them 
to show her father how she loved him, and to win his love 
again. But all her efforts failed to give her the secret of 
the nameless grace she sought, among the youthful company 
who were assembled in the house, or among the children 
of the poor, whom she often visited. 

Of Walter she thought constantly. Her tears fell often 
for his sufferings, but rarely for his supposed death, and 
never long. Thus matters stood with Florence on the 
day she went home, gladly, to her old secluded life. 

" You'll be glad to go through the old rooms, won't 
you, Susan," said Florence as they turned into the familiar 
street. 

"Well, Miss," returned the Nipper, "I wont deny but 
what I shall, though I shall hate them again to-morrow, 
very likely ! "—adding breathlessly—'' Why gracious me, 

where' s our house ? " 

There was a labyrinth of scaffolding raised all around 

191 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the house. Loads of bricks and stones, and heaps of mor- 
tar, and piles of wood, blocked up half of the broad street. 
Ladders were raised against the walls ; men were at work 
upon the scaffolding ; painters and decorators were busy 
inside ; great rolls of paper were being delivered from a 
cart at the door ; an upholsterer's wagon also stopped the way ; 
nothing was to be seen but workmen, swarming from the 
kitchens to the garret. Inside and outside alike ; bricklayers, 
painters, carpenters, masons ; hammer, hod, brush, pickaxe, 
saw, trowel : all at work together, in full chorus. 

Florence descended from the coach, half doubting if it 
could be the right house, until she recognized Towlinson, 
the butler, standing at the door to receive her. She passed 
him as if she were in a dream, and hurried upstairs. Her 
own room was not yet touched within, but there were beams 
and boards raised against it without. She went up swiftly to 
that other bedroom, where her brother's little bed was ; and 
a dark giant of a man, with a pipe in his mouth, and his 
head tied up in a pocket handkerchief, was staring in at the 
window. 

It was here that Susan Nipper found her, and said would 
she go downstairs to her papa, who wished to speak to 
her? 

"At home ! and wishing to speak to me !" cried Florence, 
pale and agitated, hurrying down without a moment's hesi- 
tation. She thought upon the way down, would she dare to 
kiss him ? Her father might have heard her heart beat 
when she came into his presence. He was not alone. 
There were two ladies there. One was old, and the other 
was young and very beautiful, and of an elegant figure. 

" Edith," said Mr. Dombey, " this is my daughter. Flor- 
ence, this lady will soon be your mamma." 

The girl started, and looked up at the beautiful face in a 

192 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

conflict of emotions, among which the tears that name 
awakened struggled for a moment with surprise, interest, 
admiration, and an indefinable sort of fear. Then she 
cried out, " Oh, papa, may you be happy ! May you be 
very, very happy all your life ! " then fell weeping on the 
lady's bosom. 

The beautiful lady held her to her breast, and pressed the 
hand with which she clasped her, as if to reassure and com- 
fort her, and bent her head down over Florence and kissed 
her on the cheek. 

And now Florence began to hope that she would learn 
from her new and beautiful mamma how to gain her father's 
love. And in her sleep that night her own mother smiled 
radiantly upon the hope, and blessed it. 

Even in the busy weeks before the wedding-day, the 
bride-elect had time to win the heart of the lonely girl, and 
Florence responded to her advances with trustful love, and 
was happy and hopeful, while the new mother's affection 
deepened daily. But it soon became evident that the affec- 
tion aroused Mr. Dombey's keen jealousy, and his wife 
thought it best to repress her feelings for Florence. 

The girl soon became aware that there was no real sym- 
pathy between her father and his second wife, and that the 
happiness in their home, of which she had dreamed, would 
never be a reality. In truth the cold, proud man with all 
his wealth and power, could not win from his wife one 
smile such as she had often bestowed upon Florence in his 
presence, and this added to his dislike for the girl. 

Once only, as Mr. Dombey sat and watched his daughter, 
the sight of her in her beauty, now almost changed into a 
woman, roused within him a fleeting feeling of regret at hav- 
ing had a household spirit bending at his feet, and of having 
overlooked it in his stiff-necked pride. He felt inclined to 

193 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

call her to him ; the words were rising to his lips, when they 
were checked by the entrance of his wife, whose haughty bear- 
ing and indifference to him caused the gentle impulse to flee 
from him, and it never returned. 

The breach between husband and wife was daily growing 
wider, when one morning, riding to the city, Mr. Dombey was 
thrown from his horse, and being brought home, he gloomily 
retired to his own rooms, where he was attended by servants, 
not approached by his wife. Late that night there arose in 
Florence's mind the image of her father, wounded and in 
pain, alone, in his own home. 

With the same child's heart within her as of old, even as 
with the child's sweet, timid eyes and clustering hair, Flor- 
ence, as strange to her father in her early maiden bloom as 
in her nursery days, crept down to his room and looked in. 
The housekeeper was fast asleep in an easy-chair before the 
fire. All was so very still that she knew he was asleep. 
There was a cut upon his forehead. One of his arms, rest- 
ing outside of the bed, was bandaged up, and he was very 
white. After the first assurance of his sleeping quietly, Flor- 
ence stole close to the bed, and softly kissed him and put the 
arm with which she dared not touch him, waking, round 
about him on the pillow, praying to God to bless her father, 
and to soften him towards her, if it might be so. 

On the following day Susan Nipper braced herself for a 
great feat which she had long been contemplating ; forced an 
entrance into Mr. Dombey's room, and told him in most em- 
phatic language what she thought of his treatment of the 
motherless little girl who had so long been her charge. 
Speechless with rage and amazement, Mr. Dombey attempted 
to summon some one to protect him from her flow of lan- 
guage, but there was no bell-rope near, and he could not 
move, so he was forced to listen to her tirade until the en- 

194 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

trance of the housekeeper cut it short. Susan Nipper was 
then instantly discharged, and bestirred herself to get her 
trunks in order, sobbing heartily as she thought of Florence, 
but exulting at the memory of Mr. Dombey's discomfiture. 
Florence dared not interfere with her father's commands, 
and took a sad farewell of the faithful little maid, who had 
for so long been her companion. 

Now Florence was quite alone. She had grown to be 
seventeen ; timid and retiring as her solitary life had made 
her, it had not embittered her. A child in innocent simpli- 
city : a woman in her modest self-reliance and her deep in- 
tensity of feeling, both child and woman seemed at once 
expressed in her fair face and fragile delicacy of shape ; in her 
thrilling voice, her calm eyes, and sometimes in a strange 
ethereal light that seemed to rest upon her head. 

Mrs. Dombey she seldom saw, and the day soon came 
when she lost her entirely. The wife's supreme indifference 
to himself and his wishes, stung Mr. Dombey more than any 
other kind of treatment could have done, and he determined 
to bend her to his will. She was the first person who 
had ever ventured to oppose him in the slightest par- 
ticular ; — their pride, however different in kind, was equal 
in degree, and their flinty opposition struck out fire which 
consumed the tie between them — and soon the final separa- 
tion came. 

One evening after a dispute with her husband, Mrs. Dom- 
bey went out to dinner, and did not return. In the confu- 
sion of that dreadful night, compassion for her father was 
the first distinct emotion that overwhelmed Florence. At 
daybreak she hastened to him with her arms stretched out, 
crying, " Oh, dear, dear papa ! " as if she would have clasped 
him around the neck. But in his frenzy he answered her 
with brutal words, and lifted up his cruel arm and struck 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

her, with that heaviness, that she tottered on the marble 
floor. She did not sink down at his feet ; she did not shut 
out the sight of him with her trembhng hands ; she did not 
utter one word of reproach. But she looked at him, and a 
cry of desolation issued from her heart. She saw she had 
no father upon earth, and ran out, orphaned, from his house. 
Another moment and Florence, with her head bent down to 
hide her agony of tears, was in the street. 

In the wildness of her sorrow, shame, and terror, the forlorn 
girl hurried through the sunshine of a bright morning as if 
it were the darkness of a winter night. Wringing her hands 
and weeping bitterly, she fled without a thought, without a 
hope, without a purpose, but to fly somewhere — anywhere. 
Suddenly she thought of the only other time she had been lost 
in the wide wilderness of London — and went that way. To 
the home of Walter's uncle. 

Checking her sobs and endeavoring to calm the agitation 
of her manner, so as to avoid attracting notice, Florence was 
going more quietly when Diogenes, panting for breath, and 
making the street ring with his glad bark, was at her feet. 

She bent down on the pavement, and laid his rough lov- 
ing foolish head against her breast, and they went on to- 
gether. 

At length the little shop came into view. She ran in and 
found Captain Cuttle, in his glazed hat, standing over the 
fire, making his morning's cocoa. Hearing a footstep and 
the rustle of a dress, the captain turned at the instant 
when Florence reeled and fell upon the floor. 

The captain, pale as Florence, calling her by his child- 
hood's name for her, raised her like a baby, and laid her upon 
the same old sofa upon which she had slumbered long ago. 

"It's Heart's Delight!" he exclaimed; "It's the sweet 
creetur grow'd a woman ! " 

196 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

But Florence did not stir, and the captain moistened her 
lips and forehead, put back her hair, covered her feet with 
his own coat, patted her hand — so small in his, that he was 
struck with wonder when he touched it — and seeing that her 
eyelids quivered and that her lips began to move, continued 
these restorative applications with a better heart. 

At last she opened her eyes, and spoke : " Captain Cuttle ! 
Is it you ? Is Walter's uncle here ? " 

"Here, Pretty?" returned the captain. " He a'n't been 
here this many a long day. He a'n't been heer'd on since 
he sheered off arter poor Wal'r. But," said the captain, as 
a quotation, ** Though lost to sight, to memory dear, and 
England, home, and beauty i " 

" Do you live here ? " asked Florence. 

•'Yes, my Lady Lass," returned the captain. 

'• Oh, Captain Cuttle ! " cried Florence, " Save me ! Keep 
me here ! Let no one know where I am ! I will tell you 
what has happened by and by, when I can. I have no one 
in the world to go to. Do not send me away ! " 

" Send you away, my Lady Lass ! " exclaimed the captain ; 
♦•you, my Heart's Delight !— Stay a bit ! We'll put up this 
dead-light, and take a double turn on the key." 

With these words the captain got out the shutter of the 
door, put it up, made it all fast, and locked the door itself. 

'• And now," said he, " You must take some breakfast, 
Lady Lass, and the dog shall have some too, and after that 
you shall go aloft to old Sol Gill's room, and fall asleep 
there, like an angel." 

The room to which the captain presently carried Florence 
was very clean, and being an orderly man, and accustomed 
to make things ship-shape, he converted the bed into a couch 
by covering it with a clean white drapery. By a similar 
contrivance he converted the little dressing-table into a 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

species of altar, on which he set forth two silver teaspoons, 
a flower-pot, a telescope, his celebrated watch, a pocket- 
comb and a song-book, as a small collection of rareties that 
made a choice appearance. 

Having darkened the window, the captain walked on tip- 
toe out of the room, and from sheer exhaustion Florence 
soon fell asleep. 

When she awoke the sun was getting low in the West, 
and after cooling her aching head and burning face in fresh 
water, she made ready to go downstairs again. What to 
do or where to live, she — poor, inexperienced girl ! — could 
not yet consider. All was dim and clouded to her mind. 
She only knew that she had no father upon earth, and she 
said so many times, with her suppliant head hidden from all 
but her Father who was in Heaven. Then she tried to 
calm her thoughts and stay her tears, and went down to her 
kind protector. 

The captain had cooked the evening meal and spread 
the cloth with great care, and when Florence appeared he 
dressed for dinner, by taking off his glazed hat and putting 
on his coat. That done, he wheeled the table against her 
on the sofa, said Grace, and did the honors of the table. 

" My Lady Lass," said he, "Cheer up, and try to eat a 
bit. Stand by, dearie ! Liver wing it is. Sarse it is. 
Sassage it is. And potato ! " 

All of these delicacies the captain ranged symetrically on 
the plate, pouring hot gravy on the whole and adding: "Try 
and pick a bit, my Pretty. If Wal'r was here " 

" Ah ! If I had him for my brother now ! " cried Florence. 

" Don't take on, my Pretty," said the captain : " awast, 
to obleege me. He was your nat'r'l born friend like, wa'n't 
he. Pet? Well, well! If our poor Wal'r was here, my 
Lady Lass — or if he could be — for he's drowned, a'n't he ? — ■ 

198 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

As I was saying, if he could be here, he'd beg and pray of 
you, my precious, to pick a leetle bit, with a look-out for 
your own sweet health. Whereby, hold your own, my Lady 
Lass, as if it was for Wal'r's sake, and lay your pretty head 
to the wind !" 

Florence essayed to eat a morsel for the captain's pleas- 
ure, but she was so tired and so sad that she could do scant 
justice to the meal, and was glad indeed when the time 
came to retire. 

She slept that night in the same little room, and the next 
day sat in the small parlor, busy with her needle, and more 
calm and tranquil than she had been on the day preceding. 
The captain, looking at her, often hitched his arm chair 
close to her, as if he were going to say something very con- 
fidential, and hitched it away again, as not being able to 
make up his mind how to begin. In the course of the day 
he cruised completely around the parlor in that frail bark, 
and more than once went ashore against the wainscot, or 
the closet door, in a very distressed condition. 

It was not until deep twilight that he fairly dropped 
anchor at last by the side of Florence, and began to talk 
connectedly. He spoke in such a trembling voice, and 
looked at Florence with a face so pale and agitated that she 
clung to his hand in affright, and her color came and went 
as she listened. 

" There's perils and dangers on the deep, my Beauty," 
said the captain ; ** and over many a brave ship, and many 
and many a bold heart the secret waters has closed up, and 
never told no tales. But there's escapes upon the deep, too, 
and sometimes one man out of a score — ah ! maybe out of 
a hundred, Pretty, has been saved by the mercy of God, and 
come home, after being given over for dead, and told of all 
hands lost. I — I know a story. Heart's Delight," stammered 

199 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

the captain, "o' this natur', as was told to me once ; and 
being on this here tack, and you and me sitting by the fire, 
maybe you'd Hke to hear me tell it. Would you, deary?" 

Florence, trembling with an agitation which she could not 
control or understand, involuntarily followed his glance, 
which went behind her into the shop where a lamp was 
burning. The instant that she turned her head, the captain 
sprung out of his chair, and interposed his hand. 

" There's nothing there, my Beauty," said the captain. 
" Don't look there ! " 

Then he murmured something about its being dull that 
way, and about the fire being cheerful. He drew the door 
ajar, which had been standing open until now, and resumed 
his seat. Florence looked intently in his face. 

" The story was about a ship, my Lady Lass," began the 
captain, ** as sailed out of the port of London, with a fair 
wind and in fair weather, bound for — Don't be took aback 
my Lady Lass, she was only out'ard. Pretty, only out'ard 
bound !" 

The expression on Florence's face alarmed the captain, 
who was himself very hot and flurried, and showed scarcely 
less agitation than she did. 

" Shall I go on, Beauty ?" said the captain. 

" Yes, yes, pray ! " cried Florence. 

The captain made a gulp as if to get down something 
that was stuck in his throat, and nervously proceeded : 

"That there unfort'nate ship met with such foul weather, 
out at sea, as don't blow once in twenty year, my darling. 
There was hurricanes ashore as tore up forests and blowed 
down towns, and there was gales at sea, even in them lati- 
tudes, as not the stoutest wessel ever launched could live in. 
Day arter day, that there unfort'nate ship behaved noble, 
I'm told, and did her duty brave, my Pretty, but at one blow 

200 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

a'most her bulwarks was stove in, her masts and rudder car- 
ried away, her best men swept overboard, and she left in the 
mercy of the storm as had no mercy, but blowed harder and 
harder yet, while the waves dashed over her, and beat her 
in, and every time they come a thundering at her, broke 
her like a shell. Every black spot in every mountain of 
water that rolled away was a bit of the ship's life, or a living 
man, and so she went to pieces. Beauty, and no grass will 
never grow upon the graves of them as manned that ship." 
"They were not all lost!" cried Florence. "Some were 
saved ! Was one ? " 

*' Aboard o' that there unfort'nate wessel," said the cap- 
tain, rising from his chair, and clenching his hand with pro- 
digious energy and exultation, ** was a lad, a gallant lad — as 
I've heard tell — that had loved when he was a boy to read 
and talk about brave actions in shipwrecks — I've heerd him ! 
— I've heerd him ! — and he remembered of 'em in his hour 
of need ; for when the stoutest hearts and oldest hands was 
hove down, he was firm and cheery. It wa'n't the want of 
objects to like and love ashore that gave him courage ; it 
was his nat'ral mind. I've seen it in his face when he was 
no more than a child — ah, many a time ! — and when I 
thought it nothing but his good looks, bless him ! " 

*' And was he saved ? " cried Florence. " Was he saved ? " 
" That brave lad," said the captain, — " look at me, pretty ! 

Don't look round " 

Florence had hardly power to repeat, " Why not ? " 
** Because there's nothing there, my deary," said the 
captain. " Don't be took aback, pretty creetur ! Don't for 
the sake of Wal'r as was dear to all on us ! That there lad," 
said the captain, " arter working with the best, and standing 
by the fainthearted, and never making no complaint nor sign 
of fear, and keeping up a spirit in all hands that made 'em 

201 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

honor him as if he'd been a admiral — that lad, alone with the 
second mate and one seaman, was left, of all the beatin' 
hearts that went aboard that ship, the only living creeturs — 
lashed to a fragment of the wreck, and drifting on the 
stormy sea." 

" Were they saved ?" cried Florence. 

" Days and nights they drifted on them endless waters," 
said the captain, " until at last — no ! don't look that way. 
Pretty ! — a sail bore down upon 'em, and they was, by the 
Lord's mercy, took aboard, two living, and one dead." 

" Which of them was dead ? " cried Florence. 

*' Not the lad I speak on," said the captain. 

" Thank God ! Oh, thank God ! " 

" Amen ! " returned the captain hurriedly. " Don't be 
took aback ! A minute more, my Lady Lass ! with a good 
heart ! — Aboard that ship, they went a long voyage, right 
away across the chart(for there wa'n't no touching nowhere), 
and on that voyage the seaman as was picked up with him 
died. But he was spared, and ." 

The captain, without knowing what he did, had cut a 
slice of bread from the loaf, and put it on his hook(which was 
his usual toasting fork), on which he now held it to the fire ; 
looking behind Florence with great emotions in his face, 
and suffering the bread to blaze and burn like fuel. 

" Was spared," repeated Florence, *' and — " 

" And come home in that ship," said the captain, still 
looking in the same direction, *' and — don't be frightened, 
Pretty ! — and landed ; and one morning come cautiously to 
his own door to take a observation, knowing that his friends 
would think him drowned, when he sheered off at the unex- 
pected " 

" At the unexpected barking of a dog?" cried Florence 
quickly. 

202 



FLORENCE DOMBEY 

** Yes ! " roared the captain. " Steady, darling ! courage ! 
Don't look round yet. See there ! upon the wall ! " 

There was the shadow of a man upon the wall close to 
her. She started up, looked round, and, with a piercing 
cry, saw Walter Gay behind her ! 

She had no thought of him but as a brother, a brother 
rescued from the grave ; a shipwrecked brother, saved, and 
at her side, — and rushed into his arms. In all the world he 
seemed to be her hope, her comfort, refuge, natural pro- 
tector. In his home-coming, — her champion and knight- 
errant from childhood's early days, — there came to Florence 
a compensation for all that she had suffered. 

On that night within the little Shop a light arose for her 
that never ceased to shed its brilliance on her path. Young, 
strong, and powerful, Walter Gay in his chivalrous rever- 
ence and love for her, would henceforth protect her life 
from sadness. 

Except from that one great sorrow that he could not lift ; 
— she was estranged from her father's love and care ; — but 
in sweet submission she bent her shoulders to the burden of 
that loss, and accepted the new joy of Walter's return with 
a lightened heart. 

Years later, when Mr. Dombey by a turn of fortune's 
wheel, was left alone in his dreary mansion, broken in mind 
and body, bereft of all his wealth ; deserted alike by friends 
and servants ; — it was Florence, the neglected, spurned, 
exiled daughter, who came like a good household angel and 
clung to him, caressing him, forgetting all but love, and 
love that outlasts injuries. 

As she clung close to him, he kissed her on the lips and 
lifting up his eyes, said, '* Oh, my God, forgive me, for I 
need it very much ! " 

With that he dropped his head again, lamenting over her 

203 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

and caressing her, and there was not a sound in all the house 
for a long, long, time ; they remaining clasped in one another's 
arms, in the glorious sunshine that had crept in with Florence. 
And so we leave them — Father and Daughter — united at 
last in an undying affection. 



204 



CHARLEY 



205 




Charley. 



CHARLEY 



WHEN I, Esther Summerson, was taken from the 
school where the early years of my childhood 
had been spent ; having no home or parents, 
as had the other girls in the school, my guar- 
dian, Mr. Jarndyce, gave me a home with him, 
where I was companion to his young and lovely ward, Ada 
Clare. I soon grew deeply attached to Ada, the dearest 
girl in the world ; to my guardian, the kindest and most 
thoughtful of men ; and to Bleak House, my happy home. 

One day, upon hearing of the death of a poor man whom 
we had known, and learning that he had left three motherless 
children in great poverty, my guardian and I set out to dis- 
cover for ourselves the extent of their need. We were 
directed to a chandler's shop in Bell Yard, a narrow, dark 
alley, where we found an old woman, who replied to my 
inquiry for Neckett's children : "Yes, surely. Miss. Three 
pair, if you please. Door right opposite the stairs." And 
she handed me a key across the counter. As she seemed to 
take it for granted I knew what to do with the key, I 
inferred it must be intended for the children's door, so with- 
out any more questions I led the way up a dark stair. 

Reaching the top room designated, I tapped at the door, 
and a little shrill voice inside said, " We are locked in. 
Mrs. Blinder's got the key ! " 

I applied the key, and opened the door. In a poor room, 
with a sloping ceiling, and containing very little furniture, 

207 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

was a mite of a boy, some five or six years old, nursing and 
hushing a heavy child of eighteen months. There was no 
fire, though the weather was cold ; both children were 
wrapped in some poor shawls and tippets, as a substitute. 
Their clothing was not so warm, however, but that their 
noses looked red and pinched, and their small figures 
shrunken, as the boy walked up and down, nursing and 
hushing the child with its head on his shoulder. 

" Who has locked you up here alone ? " we naturally 
asked. 

" Charley," said the boy. 

** Is Charley your brother? " 

** No, she's my sister, Charlotte. Father called her 
Charley." 

** Are there any more of you besides Charley." 

"Me," said the boy, "and Emma," patting the child he 
was nursing, " and Charley." 

" Where is Charley now ? " 

*' Out a-washing," said the boy, beginning to walk up and 
down again, and even as he spoke there came into the room 
a very little girl, childish in figure, but shrewd and older 
looking in the face — pretty faced, too — wearing a womanly 
sort of a bonnet, much too large for her, and drying her 
bare arms on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were 
white and wrinkled with washing, and the soap-suds were 
yet smoking, which she wiped off her arms. But for this, 
she might have been a child, playing at washing, and imita- 
ting a poor working woman with a quick observation of the 
truth. 

She had come running from some place in the neighbor- 
hood. Consequently, though she was very light, she was 
out of breath, and could not speak at first, as she stood 
panting and wiping her arms. 

208 



CHARLEY 

" O, here's Charley ! " said the boy. 

The child he was nursing stretched forth its arms and 
cried out to be taken by Charley. The little girl took it, 
in a womanly sort of manner belonging to the apron and 
the bonnet, and stood looking at us over the burden that 
clung to her most affectionately. 

" Is it possible," whispered my guardian, as he put a chair 
for the little creature, and got her to sit down with her load, the 
boy holding to her apron, " that this child works for the rest ? 

"Charley, Charley!" he questioned. "How old are 
you?" 

" Over thirteen, sir," replied the child. 

" O, what a great age!" said my guardian. "And do 
you live here alone with these babies, Charley ? " 

"Yes, sir," returned the child, looking up into his face 
with perfect confidence, "since father died." 

"And how do you live, Charley," said my guardian, 
"how do you live?" 

" Since father died, sir, I've gone out to work. I'm out 
washing to-day." 

"God help you, Charley!" said my guardian. "You're 
not tall enough to reach the tub ! " 

" In pattens I am, sir," she said quickly. " I've got a 
high pair as belonged to mother. Mother died just after 
Emma was born," said the child, glancing at the face upon 
her bosom. " Then father said I was to be as good a 
mother to her as I could. And so I tried. And so I 
worked at home, and did cleaning, and nursing, and wash- 
ing, for a long time before I began to go out. And that's 
how I know how, don't you see, sir?" 

" And do you often go out ? " 

" As often as I can, sir," said Charley, opening her eyes 
and smiling, "because of earning sixpences and shillings!" 

209 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

"And do you always lock the babies up when you go 
out?" 

"To keep 'em safe, sir, don't you see?" said Charley. 
" Mrs. Blinder comes up now and then, and Mr. Gridley 
comes up sometimes, and perhaps I can run in sometimes, 
and they can play, you know, and Tom ain't afraid of being 
locked up, are you, Tom ? " 

" No — o," said Tom stoutly. 

" When it comes on dark, the lamps are lighted down in 
the courts, and they show up here quite bright — almost quite 
bright. Don't they, Tom ? " 

" Yes, Charley," said Tom, " almost quite bright." 

"Then he's as good as gold," said the little creature, oh, 
in such a motherly, womanly way. " And when Emma's 
tired, he puts her to bed. And when he's tired he goes to 
bed himself. And when I come home and light the candle, 
and has a bit of supper, he sits up again and has it with me. 
Don't you, Tom ? " 

" O yes, Charley ! " said Tom. " That I do ! " and either 
in this glimpse of the great pleasure of his life, or in grati- 
tude and love for Charley, he laid his face among the scanty 
folds of her frock, and passed from laughing into crying. 

It was the first time since our entry, that a tear had 
been shed among these children. The little orphan girl 
had spoken of their father and their mother, as if all that 
sorrow was subdued by the necessity of taking courage, 
and by her childish importance in being able to work, and 
by her bustling busy way. But now, when Tom cried ; 
although she sat quite tranquil, looking quietly at us, and 
did not by any movement disturb a hair of the head of 
either of her little charges, I saw two silent tears fall down 
her face. 

I stood at the window pretending to look out, when I 

2IO 



CHARLEY 

found that Mrs. Blinder, from the shop below, had come in, 
and was talking to my guardian. 

"It's not much to forgive 'em the rent, sir, — who could 
take it from them ! " 

" Well, well ! " said my guardian to us two. " It is 
enough that the time will come when this good woman will 
find that it was much, and that forasmuch as she did it to 
one of the least of these — ! This child," he added after a 
few moments, ** Could she possibly continue this ? 

" Really, sir, I think she might," said Mrs. Blinder. 
** She's as handy as it's possible to be. Bless you sir, the 
way she tended them two children, after the mother died, 
was the talk of the yard ! And it was a wonder to see her 
with him, after he was took ill, it really was ! — ' Mrs. Blinder,* 
he said to me, the very last he spoke — ' Mrs. Blinder, what- 
ever my calling may have been, I see a Angel sitting in 
this room last night along with my child, and I trust her to 
our Father ! ' " 

From all that we had heard and seen, we felt a deep in- 
terest in the bright, self-reliant little creature, with her 
womanly ways and burden of family cares, and my thoughts 
turned towards her many times, after we had kissed her, and 
taken her downstairs with us, and stopped to see her run 
away to her work. We saw her run, such a little, little 
creature, in her womanly bonnet and apron, through a 
covered way at the bottom of the court, and melt into the 
city's strife and sound, like a dewdrop in an ocean. 

Some weeks later, at the close of a happy evening spent 
at Bleak House with my guardian and my dearest girl, 
I went at last to my own room, and presently heard a soft 
tap at the door, so I said, " Come in !" and there came in a 
pretty little girl, neatly dressed in mourning, who dropped a 
curtsey. 

211 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

"If you please, miss," said the little girl in a soft voice, 
" I am Charley." 

" Why so you are," said I, stooping down in astonish- 
ment, and giving her a kiss. " How glad am I to see you, 
Charley ! " 

"If you please, miss," pursued Charley, " I'm your maid ! " 

" Charley ? " 

*' If you please, miss, I'm a present to you, with Mr. Jarn- 
dyce's love. And O, miss," says Charley, clapping her 
hands, with the tears starting down her dimpled cheeks, 
" Tom's at school, if you please, and learning so good, and 
little Emma, she's with Mrs. Blinder, miss, a-being took such 
care of! and Tom, he would have been at school — and 
Emma she would have been left with Mrs. Blinder — and 
me, I should have been here — all a deal sooner, miss ; only 
Mr. Jarndyce thought Tom and Emma and me had better 
get a little used to parting, we was so small. Don't cry, if 
you please, miss." 

'• I can't help it, Charley." 

" No, miss, nor I can't help it," said Charley. " And if you 
please, miss," said Charley," Mr. Jarndyce's love, and he thinks 
you'll like to teach me now and then. And if you please, 
Tom and Emma and me is to see each other once a month. 
And I'm so happy and so thankful, miss," cried Charley with 
a heaving heart, — "and I'll try to be such a good maid ! " 

Charley dried her eyes, and entered on her functions : 
going in her matronly little way about and about the room, 
and folding up everything she could lay her hands upon. 
Presently she came creeping back to my side, and said : 

" O don't cry, if you please, miss." 

And I said again, " I can't help it." 

And Charley said again, " No, miss, nor I can't help it." 
And so, after all, I did cry for joy indeed, and so did she — 

212 



CHARLEY 

and from that night my little maid shared in all the cares 
and duties, joys and sorrows of her mistress, and I grew to 
lean heavily upon the womanly, loving, little creature. 

According to my guardian's suggestion, I gave consider- 
able time to Charley's education, but I regret to say the 
results never reflected much credit upon my educational 
powers. As for writing — it was a trying business to Charley, 
in whose hand every pen appeared to become perversely 
animated, and to go wrong and crooked, and to stop and 
splash, and sidle into corners, like a saddle donkey. It was 
very odd to see what old letters Charley's young hands had 
made. They, so shrivelled and tottering ; it, so plump and 
round. Yet Charley was uncommonly expert at other things, 
and had as nimble little fingers as I ever watched. 

** Well, Charley," said I, looking over a copy of the letter 
O in which it was represented as square, triangular, pear- 
shaped, and collapsed in all kinds of ways, " We are im- 
proving. If we only get to make it round, we shall be per- 
fect, Charley." 

Then I made one, and Charley made one, and the pen 
wouldn't join Charley's neatly, but twisted it up into a knot. 

** Never mind, Charley. We shall do it in time." 

Charley laid down her pen, opened and shut her cramped 
little hand ; and thanking me, got up and dropped me a 
curtsey, asking me if I knew a poor person by the name of 
Jenny. I answered that I did, but thought she had left the 
neighborhood altogether, *' So she had, miss," said Charley, 
" but she's come back again, and she came about the house 
three or four days, hoping to get a glimpse of you, miss, 
but you were away. She saw me a-goin' about, miss," said 
Charley, with a short laugh of the greatest delight and pride, 
" and she thought I looked like your maid !" 

" Did she though, really, Charley ? " 

213 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

"Yes, miss!" said Charley, "really and truly." And 
Charley, with another short laugh of the purest glee, made 
her eyes very round again, and looked as serious as became 
my maid. I was never tired of seeing Charley in the full 
enjoyment of that great dignity, standing before me with 
her youthful face and figure, and her steady manner, and 
her childish exultation breaking through it now and then in 
the pleasantest way. And so long as she lived, the dignity 
of having been in my service was the greatest crown of 
glory to my little maid. 

Although my efforts to make a scholar of Charley were 
never crowned with success, she had her own tastes and ac- 
complishments, and dearly loved to bustle about the house, 
in her own particularly womanly way. To surround herself 
with great heaps of needlework — baskets-full and tables full 
— and do a little, — and spend a great deal of time in staring 
with her round eyes at what there was to do, and persuade 
herself that she was going to do it, were Charley's great 
dignities and delights. 

When we went to see the woman, Jenny, we found her in 
her poor little cottage, nursing a vagrant boy called Jo, a 
crossing-sweeper, who had tramped down from London, 
and was tramping he didn't know where. Jenny, who had 
known him in London, had found him in a corner of the 
town, burning with fever, and taken him home to care for. 
Seeing that he was very ill, and fearing her husband's anger 
at her having harbored him, when it was time for her husband 
to return home, she put a few half-pence together in his 
hand, and thrust him out of the house. We followed the 
wretched boy, and pitying his forlorn condition led him 
home with us, where he was made comfortable for the night 
in a loft-room by the stable. Charley's last report was, that 
the boy was quiet. I went to bed very happy to think that 

214 



CHARLEY 

he was sheltered, and was much shocked and grieved the 
next morning, when upon visiting his room we found him 
gone. At what time he had left, or how, or why, it seemed 
hopeless ever to divine, and after a thorough search of the 
country around, which lasted for five days, we abandoned 
all thought of ever clearing up the mystery surrounding the 
boy's departure, nor was it until some time later that the 
secret was discovered. 

Meanwhile, poor Jo left behind him a dread and infectious 
disease which Charley caught from him, and in twelve hours 
after his escape she was very, very ill. I nursed her myself, 
with tenderest care, bringing her back to her old childish like- 
ness again. Then the disease came upon me, and in my 
weeks of mortal sickness, it was Charley's love and care, and 
unending devotion that saved my life. It was Charley's hand 
which removed every looking-glass from my rooms, that in 
my convalescence I might not be shocked by the alteration 
which the disease had wrought in the face she loved so dearly. 

When I was able, Charley and I went away together, to 
the most'friendly of villages, and in the home which my guard- 
ian's care had provided, we enjoyed the hours of returning 
strength. There was a kindly housekeeper to trot after me 
with restoratives and strengthening delicacies, and a pony 
expressly for my use, and soon there were friendly faces of 
greeting in every cottage as we passed by. Thus with be- 
ing much in the open air, playing with the village children, 
gossiping in many cottages, going on with Charley's educa- 
tion, and writing long letters to my dearest girl, time slipped 
away, and I found myself quite strong again. 

And to Charley, — now as well, and rosy, and pretty as 
one of Flora's attendants, I give due credit, and the bond 
which binds me to my little maid is one which will only be 
severed when the days of Charley's happy life are over. 

215 



TILLY SLOWBOY 



217 




Tilly Slowboy. 



TILLY SLOWBOY 



ALTHOUGH still in her earliest teens, Tilly Slow- 
boy was a nursery-maid for little Mrs. Peery- 
bingle's baby, and despite her extreme youth, 
was a most enthusiastic and unusual nursery- 
maid indeed. 
It may be noted of Miss Slowboy that she had a rare and 
surprising talent for getting the baby into difficulties ; and 
had several times imperilled its short life, in a quiet way pe- 
culiarly her own. 

She was of a spare and straight shape, this young lady, 
insomuch that her garments appeared to be in constant dan- 
ger of sliding off those sharp pegs, her shoulders, on which 
they were loosely hung. Her costume was remarkable for 
the partial development on all possible occasions, of some 
flannel vestment of a singular structure ; also affording 
glimpses, in the region of the back, of a pair of stays, in 
color a dead green. 

Being always in a state of gaping admiration at every- 
thing, and absorbed besides, in the perpetual contemplation 
of her mistress's perfections, and the baby's. Miss Slowboy, in 
her little errors of judgment may be said to have done equal 
honor to her head and to her heart ; and though these did 
less honor to the baby's head, which they were the occasional 
means of bringing into contact with deal doors, dressers, 
stair-rails, bed-posts, and other foreign substances, still they 
were the honest results of Tilly Slowboy's constant astonish- 

219 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

ment at finding herself so kindly treated and installed in 
such a comfortable home. For the maternal and paternal 
Slowboy were alike unknown to Fame, and Tilly had 
been bred by public charity, a foundling ; which word, 
though only differing from fondling by one vowel's length, is 
very different in meaning, and expresses quite another thing. 

It was a singularly happy and united family in which 
Tilly's lot was cast. Honest John Peerybingle, Carrier; his 
pretty little wife, whom he called Dot ; the very remarkable 
doll of a baby ; the dog Boxer ; and the Cricket on the Hearth, 
whose cheerful chirp, chirp, chirp, was a continual family 
blessing and good-omen ; — were collectively and severally the 
objects of Tilly's unbounded admiration. 

If ever a person or thing alarmed Tilly, she would hastily 
seek protection near the skirts of her pretty little mistress ; or, 
failing that, would make a charge or butt at the object of her 
fright with the only offensive instrument within her reach — 
which usually happened to be the baby. Tilly's bump of 
good fortune being extraordinarily well developed, the baby 
usually managed to come out from the siege unharmed, to 
be soothed and comforted in Tilly's own peculiar fashion ; 
her most common method of amusement being to reproduce 
for its entertainment scraps of conversation current in the 
house, with all the sense left out of them, and all the nouns 
changed to the plural number, as — " Did its mothers make 
it up a beds then ! And did its hair grow brown and curly 
when its cap was lifted off, and frighten it, a precious Pets, 
a-sitting by the fire ! " 

It was a notable and exciting event to Miss Slowboy when 
she set out one day in the Carrier's cart, with her little 
mistress and the remarkable baby, to have dinner with 
Caleb Plummer's blind daughter, Bertha, who was Mrs. 
Dot's devoted friend. 

220 



TILLY SLOWBOY 

In consequence of the departure, there was a pretty sharp 
commotion at John Peerybingle's, for to get the baby under 
weigh took time. Not that there was much of the baby, 
speaking of it as a thing of weight and measure, but there 
was a vast deal to do about it, and all had to be done by 
easy stages. When the baby was got, by hook and by 
crook, to a certain point of dressing, and you might have 
supposed that another touch or two would finish him off, he 
was unexpectedly extinguished, and hustled off to bed ; 
where he simmered (so to speak) between two blankets for 
the best part of an hour, while Mrs. Peerybingle took ad- 
vantage of the interval to make herself smart for the trip, 
and during the same short truce. Miss Slowboy insinuated 
herself into a spencer, of a fashion so surprising and ingen- 
ious, that it had no connection with herself, or anything else 
in the universe, but was a shrunken, dog's-eared, indepen- 
dent fact, pursuing its lonely course without the least regard 
to anybody. By this time, the baby, being all alive again, 
was invested by the united efforts of Mrs. Peerybingle and 
Miss Slowboy, with a cream-colored mantle for its body, and 
a sort of nankeen raised-pie for its head, and in course of 
time they all three got down to the door, where the old horse 
was waiting to convey them on their trip. 

In reference to Miss Slowboy's ascent into the cart, if I 
might be allowed to mention a young lady's legs, on any 
terms, I would observe of her that there was a fatality 
about hers which rendered them singularly liable to be 
grazed ; and that she never effected the smallest ascent or 
descent without recording the circumstance upon them with 
a notch, as Robinson Crusoe marked the days upon his 
wooden calendar. But as this might be considered ungen- 
teel, I'll think of it — merely observing that when the three 
were all safely settled in the cart, and the basket con- 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

taining the Veal-and-Ham Pie and other delicacies, which 
Mrs. Peerybingle always carried when she visited the blind 
girl, was stowed away, they jogged on for some little time 
in silence. 

But not for long, for everybody on the road had some- 
thing to say to the occupants of John Peerybingle's cart, 
and sometimes passengers on foot, or horseback, plodded 
on a little way beside the cart, for the express purpose of 
having a chat. Then, too, the packages and parcels for the 
errand cart were numerous, and there were many stoppages 
to take them in and give them out, which was not the least 
interesting part of the journey. 

Of all the little incidents of the day. Dot was the amused 
and open-eyed spectatress from her chair in the cart ; mak- 
ing a charming little portrait as she sat there, looking on. 
And this delighted John the Carrier beyond measure. 

The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the January 
weather, and was raw and cold. But who cared for such 
trifles ! Not Dot, decidedly. Not Tilly Slowboy, for she 
deemed sitting in a cart on any terms, to be the highest 
point of human joy ; the crowning circumstance of earthly 
hopes. Not the baby, I'll be sworn ; for it's not in baby 
nature to be warmer or more sound asleep than that blessed 
young Peerybingle was all the way. 

In one place there was a mound of weeds burning, and 
they watched the fire until, in consequence, as she observed, 
of the smoke "getting up her nose," Miss Slowboy choked 
— she could do anything of that sort on the smallest prov- 
ocation — and woke the baby, who wouldn't go to sleep again. 

But, at that moment they came in sight of the blind girl's 
home, where she was waiting with keen anticipation to 
receive them. 

Bertha had other visitors as well that day, and the pic-. 

222 



TILLY SLOWBOY 

nic dinner proceeded in a very stately and dignified manner- 
Miss Slowboy was isolated, for the time being, from every 
article of furniture but the chair she sat on, that she might 
have nothing else to knock the baby's head against, and sat 
staring about her in unspeakable delight. To her the day 
was all too short, and when that evening John Peerybingle 
making his return trip, called to take them home, Miss Slow- 
boy's regret was intense. 

As long as her little mistress smiled, Tilly's face too was 
wreathed in smiles ; but when a hidden shadow darkened the 
Perrybingle sky, overclouding the happiness of the little 
home, and Dot cried all night, Tilly's eyes were red and 
swollen too, the next morning. 

It happened in this way. Pretty little Dot gave good 
John Perrybingle cause for anxiety by her actions, and the 
honest carrier, disturbed and misled, felt that he had reason 
to doubt her love for him, which almost broke his honest, 
faithful heart. While he was worrying over this, and over 
her, his little wife was merely shielding a secret belonging 
to Edward Plummer, Bertha's brother, who had just come 
back, after many year's absence in the golden South Americas. 

So unaccustomed was Dot to keeping a secret that it caused 
her to act very strangely, and give her husband reason to 
misjudge her, which almost broke her loving little heart. 
All of which trouble Tilly Slowboy did not understand, but 
was deeply affected by it, and when she found her mistress 
alone, sobbing piteously, was quite horrified, exclaiming : 

** Ow, if you please, don't ! It's enough to dead and bury 
the baby, so it is, if you please ! " 

" Will you bring him sometimes, to see his father, Tilly ? " 
inquired her mistress, drying her eyes ; " when I can't live 
here, and have gone to my old home ? " 

" Ow, if you please, do7it\ " cried Tilly, throwing back her 

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TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

head and bursting out into a howl — she looked at the mo- 
ment uncommonly like Boxer — " Ow, if you please, don't ! 
Ow, what has everybody been and gone and done with every- 
body, making everybody else so wretched. Ow-w-w-w ! " 

The soft-hearted Slowboy trailed off at this juncture, into 
such a deplorable howl, the more tremendous from its long 
suppression, that she must infallibly have wakened the baby 
and frightened him into something serious (probably convul- 
sions) if her attention had not been forcibly diverted from 
her misery for a moment, after which she stood for some 
time silent, with her mouth wide open ; and then, posting off 
to the bed on which the baby lay asleep, danced in a weird, 
Saint Vitus manner, on the floor, and at the same time rum- 
maged with her face and head among the bed-clothes, 
apparently deriving much relief from those extraordinary 
operations. 

Fortunately for all concerned in the little domestic drama, 
before a crisis had been reached, Edward Plummer revealed 
his secret, and his reasons for having been obliged to keep it. 
This cleared up the mystery concerning Mrs. Dot's conduct, 
proving her to be the same loyal, loving little wife she always 
was : to the exquisite satisfaction of the honest carrier, his 
family and friends, and last but not least. Miss Slowboy, who 
wept copiously for joy, and wishing to include her young 
charge in the general interchange of congratulations, handed 
round the baby to everybody in succession, as if it were some- 
thing to eat or drink. 

Of course it became a serious duty now, to make such a 
day of it as should mark these events for a high feast and 
festival in the Peerybingle Calendar forevermore. Accord- 
ingly, Dot went to work to produce such an entertainment 
as should reflect undying honor on the house and on every 
one concerned, and in a very short space of time everybody 

224 



TILLY SLOWBOY 

in the house was in a state of flutter and domestic turmoil 
and during the flurry of preparation, everybody tumbled 
over Tilly Slowboy and the baby everywhere. Tilly never 
came out in such force before. Her ubiquity was the theme 
of universal admiration. She was a stumbling-block in the 
passage at five-and-twenty minutes past two ; a man-trap in 
the kitchen at half-past two precisely ; and a pitfall in the 
garret at five-and-twenty minutes to three. The baby's head 
was, as it were, a test and touchstone for every descrip- 
tion of matter, — animal, vegetable, and mineral. Nothing 
was in use that day that didn't come, at some time or other, 
into close acquaintance with it. 

That was a great celebration indeed, with Dot doing the 
honors in her wedding-gown, her eyes sparkling with happi- 
ness, and the good carrier, so jovial and so ruddy at the bot- 
tom of the table, and all their guests aiding to make the 
occasion a memorable and happy one. 

There was a dance in the evening, for which Bertha 
played her liveliest tune. Inspired by infectious joy, old and 
young get up and join the whirling throng. Suddenly 
Caleb Plummer clutches Tilly Slowboy by both hands and 
goes off at score, Miss Slowboy firm in the belief that div- 
ing hotly in among the couples, and effecting any number 
of concussions with them, is your only principle of footing 
it, and ecstatically glad to abandon herself to the delights of 
the occasion, so long as she sees joy written again on the 
pretty face of her beloved little mistress, and feels that hap- 
piness has been restored to honest John Peerybingle and his 
family. 

Hark! How the Cricket on the Hearth joins in the 
music, with its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp, and how the kettle 
hums ! 



225 



AGNES WICKFIELD 



227 




Agnes Wickfield. 



AGNES WICKFIELD 



WHEN I became the adopted son of my aunt, 
Miss Betsy Trotwood, my new clothes were 
marked Trotwood Copperfield, instead of the 
old familiar David of my childhood ; and I be- 
gan my new life, not only in the new name, 
but with everything new about me, and felt for many days 
like one in a dream, until I had proved the happy reality to 
be a fact. 

My aunt's first desire was to place me in a good school at 
Canterbury, and, lack of education having been my chief 
source of anxiety, this resolve gave me unbounded delight. 
So it was with a flutter of joyful anticipation that I accom- 
panied her to Canterbury to call upon her agent and friend 
Mr. Wickfield, and to confer with him upon the all-im- 
portant subject of schools and boarding places. 

Arriving at Canterbury, we stopped before a very old 
house, bulging out over the road, with long low latticed 
windows bulging out still further, and beams with carved 
heads on the ends bulging out too ; so that I fancied the 
whole house was leaning forward, trying to see who was 
passing on the pavement below. It was quite spotless in 
its cleanliness. The old-fashioned brass knocker on the 
low arched door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruit 
and flowers, twinkled like a star ; the two stone steps des- 
cending to the door were as white as if they had been 
covered with fair linen, and all the angles, and corners, 

229 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

and carvings, and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass, 
and quainter little windows, were as pure as any snow that 
ever fell upon the hills. 

When the pony chaise stopped at the door, we alighted 
and had a long conference with Mr. Wickfield, an elderly 
gentleman with grey hair and black eyebrows. He ap- 
proved of my aunt's selection of Dr. Strong's school, and in 
regard to a home for me, made the following proposal : 

" Leave your nephew here for the present. He's a quiet 
fellow. He won't disturb me at all. It's a capital house for 
study. As quiet as a monastery, and almost as roomy. 
Leave him here." 

My aunt evidently liked the offer, but was delicate of ac- 
cepting it, until Mr. Wickfield cried, " Come ! I know how 
you feel, you shall not be oppressed by the receipt of favors, 
Miss Trotwood. You may pay for him if you like." 

" On that understanding," said my aunt, "though it doesn't 
lessen the real obligation, I shall be very glad to leave him." 

" Then come and see my little housekeeper," said Mr. 
Wickfield. 

We accordingly went up a wonderful old staircase, with a 
balustrade so broad that we might have gone up that, almost 
as easily, and into a shady old drawing-room, lighted by three 
or four quaint windows which had old oak seats in them, 
that seemed to have come of the same trees as the shining 
oak floor, and the great beams in the ceiling. It was a 
prettily furnished room, with a piano, and some lively furni- 
ture in red and green, and some flowers. It seemed to be 
all odd nooks and corners ; and in every nook and corner 
there was some queer little table, or cupboard, or bookcase, 
or seat, or something or other, that made me think there 
was not such another corner in the room, until I looked at 
the next one and found it equal to it if not better. On every- 

230 



AGNES WICKFIELD 

thing there was the same air of refinement and cleanliness 
that marked the house outside. 

Mr. Wickfield tapped at a door in a corner of the panelled 
wall, and a girl of about my own age came quickly out and 
kissed him. On her face, I saw immediately the placid 
and sweet expression of a lady whose portrait I had seen 
downstairs. It seemed to my imagination as if the portrait 
had grown womanly, and the original had remained a 
child. Although her face was quite bright and happy, 
there was a tranquillity about it, and about her — a quiet, 
good, calm, spirit — that I never have forgotten ; that I never 
shall forget. 

This was his little housekeeper, his daughter Agnes, Mr. 
Wickfield said. When I heard how he said it, and saw how 
he held her hand, I guessed what the one motive of his life was. 

She had a little basket-trifle hanging at her side with keys 
in it ; and she looked as staid and discreet a housekeeper as 
the old house could have. She listened to her father as he 
told her about me, with a pleasant face ; and when he had 
concluded, proposed to my aunt that we should go upstairs, 
and see my room. We all went together, she before us. 
A glorious old room it was, with more oak beams, and 
diamond panes ; and the broad balustrade going all the way 
up to it. 

I cannot call to mind where or when, in my childhood, I 
had seen a stained-glass window in a church. Nor do I rec- 
ollect its subject. But I know that when I saw her turn 
round, in the grave light of the old staircase, and wait for 
us above, I thought of that window ; and I associated some- 
thing of its tranquil brightness with Agnes Wickfield ever 
afterwards. 

My aunt was as happy as I was, in the arrangement made 
for me, and we went down to the drawing-room again, well 

231 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

pleased and gratified, and shortly after this my aunt took her 
departure, in consequence of which for some hours I was 
very much dejected. But by five o'clock, which was Mr. 
Wickfield's dinner hour, I had mustered up my spirits again, 
and was ready for my knife and fork. The cloth was only 
laid for us two ; but Agnes was waiting in the drawing-room 
before dinner, and went down with her father, and sat op- 
posite to him at table. I doubted whether he could have 
dined without her. 

We did not stay there after dinner, but came upstairs into 
the drawing-room again, in one snug corner of which Agnes, 
set glasses for her father, and a decanter of port wine. 
There he sat, taking his wine, while Agnes played on the 
piano, worked, and talked to him and me. Later Agnes 
made the tea, and presided over it ; and the time passed 
away after it as after dinner, until she went to bed ; when her 
father took her in his arms and kissed her, and, she being 
gone, ordered candles in his office. Then I went to bed too. 

Next morning I entered on my new school life at Dr. 
Strong's, and began a happy existence in an excellent estab- 
lishment, the character and dignity of which we each felt it 
our duty to maintain. We felt thdt we had a part in the 
management of the school, and learned with a good will, de- 
siring to do it credit We had noble games out of hours, 
and plenty of liberty ; but were well spoken of in the town, 
and rarely did any disgrace by our appearance or manner, 
to the reputation of Dr. Strong or Dr. Strong's boys, and 
the Doctor himself was the idol of the whole school. 

On that first day when I returned home from school, 
Agnes was in the drawing-room, waiting for her father. *^ 
She met me with her pleasant smile, and asked me how I 
liked the school. I told her I should like it very much, I 
hoped ; but I was a little strange to it at first. 

232 



AGNES WICKFIELD 

" You have never been to school," I said, " have you ?" 

" Oh yes ! every day," 

" Ah, but you mean here, at your own home ? " 

" Papa couldn't spare me to go anywhere else," she an- 
swered smiling and shaking her head. " His housekeeper 
must be in his house, you know." 

" He's very fond of you, I am sure," I said. 

She nodded, "Yes," and went to the door to listen for 
his coming up, that she might meet him on the stairs. But 
as he was not there, she came back again. 

** Mamma has been dead ever since I was born," she said in 
her quiet way. " I only know her picture, downstairs. I 
saw you looking at it yesterday. Did you think whose it 
was ? " 

I told her yes, because it was so like herself. 

** Papa says so, too," said Agnes, pleased. " Hark ! that's 
Papa now ! " 

Her bright calm face lighted up with pleasure as she went 
to meet him, and as they came in, hand in hand ; and from 
that time as I watched her day by day, I saw no trace in 
Agnes of anything but single-hearted devotion to that father, 
whose wants she cared for so untiringly in her beautiful 
quiet way. 

When we had dined that night, we went upstairs again, 
where everything went on exactly as on the previous day. 
Agnes set the glasses and decanters in the same corner, and 
Mr. Wickfield sat down to drink. Agnes played the piano 
to him, sat by him, and worked and talked, and played some 
games at dominoes with me. In good time she made tea; 
and afterwards, when I brought down my books, looked 
into them, and showed me what she knew of them (which 
was no slight matter, though she said it was), and what was 
the best way to learn and understand them. I see her, with 

233 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

her modest, orderly, placid, manner, and I hear her beauti- 
ful, calm voice, as I write these words. The influence for 
all good, which she came to exercise over me at a later time 
begins already to descend upon my breast. I love little 
Emily, and I don't love Agnes — no, not at all in that way — 
but I feel that there are goodness, peace, and truth where- 
ever Agnes is ; and that the soft light of the colored window 
in the church, seen long ago, falls on her always, and on me 
when I am near her, and on everything around. 

The time having come for her withdrawal for the night, 
as I gave Mr. Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going 
away myself, he checked me and said ; ** Should you like to 
stay with us, Trotwood, or go elsewhere ? " 

" To stay," I answered quickly. 

"You are sure ? " 

*' If you please. If I may." 

"Why, it's but a dull life that we lead here, boy, I'm 
afraid," he said. 

" Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir. Not dull at 
all ! " 

" Than Agnes," he repeated, walking slowly to the great 
chimney-piece, and leaning against it. "Than Agnes! Now 
I wonder," he muttered, "whether my Agnes tires of me. 
When should I ever tire of her ? But that's different, that's 
quite different." 

He was musing, not speaking to me; so I remained 
quiet. 

"A dull, old house," he said, "and a monotonous life. 
Stay with us, Trotwood, eh ?" he added in his usual manner, 
and as if he were answering something I had just said. " I'm 
glad of it. You are company to us both. It is wholesome to 
have you here. Wholesome for me, wholesome for Agnes 
wholesome perhaps for all of us." 

234 



AGNES WICKFIELD 

" I'm sure it is for me, sir," I said, " I'm so ^lad to be 
here." 

" That's a fine fellow ! " said Mr. Wickfield. " As long as 
you are glad to be here, you shall stay here." 

And so I lived at Mr. Wickfield's through the remainder 
of my schooldays, and to Agnes, as the months went by, I 
turned more and more often for advice and counsel. 

We saw a good deal of Dr. Strong's wife, both because 
she had taken a liking to me, and because she was very fond 
of Agnes, and was often backwards and forwards at our 
house, and we had pleasant evenings at the doctor's too, 
with other guests, when we had merry round games of cards, 
or music — for both Mrs. Strong and Agnes sang sweetly — 
and so, with weekly visits from my aunt, and walks and talks 
with Agnes, and the events and phases of feeling too nu- 
merous to chronicle, which make up a boy's existence, my 
schooldays glided all too swiftly by. 

Time has stolen on unobserved. I am higher in the 
school and no one breaks my peace. Dr. Strong refers to 
me in public as a promising young scholar, and my aunt re- 
mits me a guinea by next post. And what comes now ? I 
am the head boy ! I look down on the line of boys below 
me, with a condescending interest in such of them as bring 
to my mind the boy I was myself, when I first came there. 
That little fellow seems to be no part of me ; I remember 
him as something left behind upon the road of life — and 
almost think of him as of some one else. 

What other changes have come upon me, beside the 
changes in my growth and looks, and in the knowledge I 
have garnered all this while ? I wear a gold watch and 
chain, a ring upon my little finger, and a long-tailed coat ; 
and twice have I been desperately in love with a fair damsel, 
and have twice recovered. 

235 



TEN GIRLS from DICKENS 

And the little girl I saw on that first day at Mr. Wick- 
field's, where is she? Gone also. In her stead, the perfect 
likeness of the picture, a child's likeness no more, moves 
about the house ; and Agnes, my sweet sister, as I call her 
in my thoughts, my counsellor and friend, the better angel 
of the lives of all who come within her calm, good, self-de- 
nying influence — is quite a woman. 

When the time came to take leave of Agnes and her 
father, though it saddened me, my mind was so filled with 
thoughts of self that I paid little heed to Agnes and her 
brave farewell, nor did I realize what her loneliness would 
be when the old and silent house was made doubly silent by 
the removal of a boy's presence. I did not then understand 
what her devotion to the elderly father and his interests 
held of sacrifice for one so young, nor of what fine clay the 
girl was moulded. But in later years I realized it fully, and 
looking back, I always saw her as when on that first day, 
in the grave light of the old staircase, I thought of the 
stained-glass window, associating something of its tranquil 
brightness with her ever afterwards. 

With Agnes the woman, and the influence for all good 
which she came to exercise over me at a later time, this 
story does not deal. It need only record the simple details 
of the girl's quiet life, — of the girl's calm strong nature, — 
that there were goodness, peace and truth wherever Agnes 
was, — Agnes, my boyhood's sister, counsellor and friend. 



236 



